Before the End
by EternalRevival
Summary: Optimus Prime has been killed, Earth destroyed, and the universe on the verge of destruction, but the Allspark will do anything in its power to reverse time. Sam Witwicky is now the unwilling hero sent to Cybertron thousands of years in the past to redo a wrongdoing and to ensure that above all else, Optimus Prime must survive.
1. Chapter 1

Sam bit back another flinch and bit his glossa from emitting another curse in his mother tongue. Honestly, how was he supposed to transport all these books with no form of a cart or transportation? True, all the other bots seemed perfectly fine and capable of transporting by hand through pure muscle (whatever form of energy they expended) and hard labor, but Sam simple could not reenact their own prowess resulting in his humble (humiliating) defeat against boxes.

Boxes of books.

Yes, Sam could literally hear the sound of his pride and dignity sputtering down the drain. As if he had already lost enough from his constant babbling in his native tongue (clearly not yet understood here on Cybertron) resulting in dismissive and somewhat weary glances inhibited by his co-workers much to Sam's embarrassment.

He had often heard them whisper among themselves in the halls of his odd behavior and glitching communication. One even had the guts (Wiring? Or was it cables?) to mockingly grab Sam's smaller helm with his large servos and tauntingly ask him if his creators had dumped him on the head from the scrutiny of his face alone leading to a damaged processor.

No, his parents did not, thank you very much. If anything, Mrs. Witwicky would have been far more likely to accidentally hit him with a bat than to mundanely drop him on the ground.

But still, the encounter had hurt, and it had only further reminded Sam of everything that he had lost coming here to Cybertron. The impending doom he felt, and the infinite loneliness that quelled his spark. Although the slight reminder of Trent was comforting with some familiarity if not amusing at best.

So why was he here you ask? Simple, he did not know why. Or to be truthful, he knew why, but for the life of him, he could not understand why. Why him? Of all the people in the world to choose from, why would the allspark choose him? Didn't that dang cube know how many tests he failed back on Earth when he was human? What could possibly possess the thing to think he could pass a Cybertronian test much less graduate (which he eventually did)?

Okay, still not making sense? Let's start again.

Sam Witwicky was once a human that saved the world (just Earth but he liked to include the universe in that little memento) for at least a year (maybe less, okay it was definitely less) before the Decipticons completely destroyed it in a matter of days. Optimus had died, and really, everything had only spiraled down hill from there.

Sam could still feel the Allspark's emotions, so deeply embedded into his own that he could no longer decipher the two. The death, as tragic as it was, had shaken the Allspark to the core (literally), and through the screaming agony of having lost its own child, it had demanded that Sam return to the past to cement a brighter future that he would not live to see.

Selfish cube.

It had pulled him through an endless cycle of life and death, remembering and forgetting, forged its way all for the purpose of securing its brethren and the children it so dearly created. Purposefully forcing Sam into the pain of rebirth in a world he would never had known existed had he lived a normal, human life.

If only he hadn't gotten into that car. Wait no, that's Mikaela's line. He was far too involved way beyond his first meeting with Bumblebee. If only he hadn't found those glasses. There, better, but wait. What if he was still involved even after that? If only his great grandfather never found Megatron. But then Earth would still be in peril (found by some other poor chum) which could eventually lead back to Sam's own destruction. If only the Allspark had never landed on Earth. But even then, that would mean war was still brewing back on Cybertron, the cube landing somewhere else, and an eventual war that could lead to the destruction of Earth, ergo the destruction of Samuel James Witwicky.

Heck, screw it all. If he's going to curse something he might as well curse the whole race for ever existing and dragging him, of all things, into it. But in the end, Sam had befriended so many, lived and fought, bled and cried, and trudged through the agonizing pain far too many times to ever say he regretted any of it.

So really, all it came down to was the Allspark. Because there was no way he would blame himself before at least attempting to blame someone (something?) else, and that, sadly, befell on the Allspark.

Okay, enough dawdling, back to the story at hand.

The Allspark never died, it simple could not. Left with no choice, it had absorbed its way into the vessel of Sam where it remained dormant, weakened through its state of slumber, and just as quickly, reawakened through the destruction of its own creations. Shaken out of its eternal rest, the Allspark had thundered with rage and sadness over the loss of its children and with obvious intent, sent Sam to the past to redo the wrongdoings, to preserve its race, and to pave way to a brighter future.

And did it ask him for his own opinion? Bloody hell no. Would he have said yes anyway? Begrudgingly, after ten years of cursing the damn thing, Sam admits yes.

But, regardless, Sam was in it now and he had no choice but to comply. It was his task, and his regrettable duty. He had been reborn on Cybertron, housed as an orphan, trained and schooled before he could be interned at the Iacon Hall of Records, and even then, he had yet to be fully accepted within the high standards of the working monitors that had been blessed with such jobs from the beginning of their arrival of the Allspark, raised to such perfections, it flustered Sam.

"Ante, are you alright?" a voice called out through the hallways and echoed dully, resonating among the largely expanded corridors.

Ante Finem, that was the designation he now went by, and it took him far too long to get used to it. Regardless, Sam looked up, tilting his helm slightly in recognition and acknowledgment as Orion Pax strode forward. The mech easily towering over Sam's smaller frame and casting a large shadow that obscured the ceiling lights from Sam's view.

It had first been a hefty relief the first time Sam had seen Orion Pax, yet within seconds of the realization came the unyielding pain of another reminder of Sam's duty. Optimus Prime mustn't die; the world depended on it. Although he appeared the same as Sam had always remembered, he was now far less bulky with the loss of armor, weapons, and cannons that he had acquired throughout the war. But he was still noticeably the same, the exact same, and that pained Sam.

"Orion," Sam called out in greeting as he straitened (although it just made him look more pathetic) next to the taller mech. Currently a monitor of the Data Caste in the Hall of Records and the personal apprentice of Alpha Trion, a high honor to bestow, Orion was preoccupied with his job of overseeing the constant waves of transmissions that made its way across the communication grid. It seemed like an endless, un-thankful job, yet the other took it with great stride, obviously content with his life.

"Are you having difficulties?" Orion asked again when Sam provided no further greeting or answer which caused the latter to immediately glare with a slight flinch and a quiet yet admitted yes. It was not his fault, truly. His human body, significantly smaller than that of a Cybertronian, was tremendously smaller when the Allspark had resurrected him, new spark and all, into the form of a bot and thus, his height and strengths were futile in comparison to others such as Orion. In addition, Sam's mind, linked in a peculiar way to his muscles, was now severed from its usual way of thinking resulting in the slow reaction time and the deterioration of his own cables. Each walk he took was painstakingly calculated least he fell, and worse, each step was bizarrely painful, his mind not yet able to adapt to the changes of a Cybertronian body.

The strain on his mind was perplexing at the least and he feared it was slowly killing him. His new metal body simply could not keep up with the others and the effort was wearing him thin, yet all the other interns had gladly left him alone to haul seven crates of newly shipped books to the upstairs library for storage as they departed for the lunar cycle. It seemed that Sam was once again the victim of teenage bullying.

Orion, however, had quickly befriended Sam and had attempted to dissuade as many bullies as he could or noticed. The keyword being attempted as Sam had still fallen prey to the hazardous pranks of his oppressors whenever they were presented with the opportunity. One such trick being now.

"It is already dark," Orion commented which caused Sam's optics to shutter in annoyance while propelling air out of his vents. "I'm afraid I did not notice," he sighed, utterly vexed. "I'll retire after I get these boxes upstairs."

Orion frowned, or as much as a robotic face could although Sam had come to long since recognized the familiar squint of the other's optics along with the disapproving downward twitch of his lips. His eyes holding obvious pity that only further frustrated Sam. "Do you acquire any assistance?" Orion asked again politely because the last time he had tried to help Sam without a positive confirmation of yes, had resulted in the other graciously attempting to smack the folders out of Orion's hand. The result was rather amusing (to anyone other than Sam and Orion).

Sam had been in agony for the rest of his shift as pain resonated from his servos (much to his embarrassment), and Orion, who remained unfazed by the encounter, spent the next joor profusely apologizing and attempting to make up for the incident by doing _everything_ which only further annoyed Sam.

Was Optimus Prime always such a goody two shoes? Worse, is this supposed to be the savior of not only Cybertron but also Earth as well?

Sam only nodded his helm in response and waved at Orion to grab one of the boxes which the other easily and willingly complied with little to no effort. In fact, he grabbed two boxes, stacked precariously upon one another, and then started heading up the hallway towards the elevator next to the stair well that no bot used for the mere inconvenience of walking so many steps; that and Sam was physically incapable of such feats.

Sam followed closely behind while directing Orion where to go. After reaching the third floor, hauling the boxes another two hallways down, and then dropping them off in the middle of one of the great archive rooms, Sam and Orion continued their trek back down using the same route until all seven crates were completed. It was tiring, and Sam wasn't even the one carrying the boxes!

The two finally finished the tireless route and relaxed on one of the large benches that sat at the end of the hallway leading to an open room with a ceiling of glass. The seating purposefully placed for visitors to gaze at the stars in wonderment.

Indeed, the sky was beautiful, but it was not the sky Sam had become so familiar with. The vast open space containing a similar ethereal beauty yet appearing so different. There was no North star, no Ursa Major to gaze at, and certainly no Earth.

"Thanks for helping me," Sam spoke quietly, still slightly embarrassed. Orion, long used to this, smiled happily and quickly explained that he was more than glad to help which only caused Sam further grief at having to take advantage of the other. Although both were busy with their work, they had, somehow, found a way to evolve into a friendship that often resulted in Orion seeking Sam out during the end of the sol so the two could talk and star gaze, something both seemed to enjoy.

Their conversations varied deeply between each night and Sam quickly grew fond of their inquiry. The two often asking each other questions, answering each other, and then debating between opposing ideas or simple agreeing with one another. Tonight, however, there was little time to converse as the halls quickly diminished into the lowly silence, the other workers turning in for a long well deserved rest before the next sol, and Sam didn't dare keep Orion any longer.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you back?" Orion asked again, mostly due to his fear of Sam facing bullies alone, which only prompted Sam to quickly shake his helm and discourage the other from any more attempts of asking. "I can walk perfectly fine," Sam replied although there was no heat behind his words (because, really, he was not fine). The truth simply was that he didn't wish for Orion to see him walking when his exhaustion had settled in and his body's sluggish movements revolted ten fold in protest often resulting in his knees firmly connected to the tile flooring or, worse, his face planted to the ground.

Added with the fact that he would not go to sleep for another cycle.

Sam hated having to shut down by the end of each sol, and the whole process itself always left him struggling and mentally preparing for the onslaught of nightmares that invaded his sleep each night. The pains of his new body, the fear of a formidable future, and the constant loneliness had steadily chipped away at his inner mind until the nightmare plague, something he had originally thought impossible in a robotic body, had purged his system leaving him awake deep within the lunar cycle and left to stare mournfully at the tiled walls for cycles on end.

He was afraid, terribly afraid, and as much as he tried to convince his mind otherwise, he could not stop it; that undeniable fear. Even so, he could not turn to any other bot. It was his burden alone and he refused, absolutely refused, to allow Orion to help (partially because of his own pride and also because the other already had the weight of the universe planted on his shoulders). So even as night descended upon the planet of Cybertron and Orion waved him a final good-bye, Sam could feel the weight of his own burden once again burrowing into his chasis, and if he had a heart, he almost would have said it hurt.

 **AN- This is my first Transformers fic and I admit, I'm not very well versed in the background of Cybertron, so a lot of what I write will be referenced from wiki. Now an explanation for Sam's name, Ante Finem is supposed to be Latin for 'before the end', but that's just what google has been telling me. I'm not sure how far I'm willing to go with this fic, but all reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

Talking is not the main communication most Cybertronians preferred to use. Formal and tense, it holds little privacy and few, among close friends, would use such a crude method but rather communicate through a series of pins used as instant messages or comm links. The IM's, a common form of communication, that provided more privacy than simply speaking although it was not entirely difficult for a certified bot to pry their way through the magnetic field and read the coding. However, as it was deemed rude to meddle into such privacy, this was scarcely used unless necessary in cases of felony or suspicion, and, as Sam knew in the future, war.

EM, electromagnetic fields, were also a significant form of intimate communication that relied on a physical, invisible, electrically charged field that, too a human was much like hugging or holding hands. Such forms of communication were found to be especially affectionate, used mostly among close friends, family, and bonded.

And Sam was incapable of understanding any of it.

Sam, having been used to the life of speaking, listening, and watching intently for the tell tale signs of body posture (which he himself was prone to doing), could not comprehend how to use such new forms of communications, and thus suffered. His EM field remained weak and unstable due to his own wavering human spark, and he lacked any forms of mental communication, his mind to young and unable to move the invisible force, but somewhere, in the slight creases of his mind, he could feel the gentle pull of Orion Pax's own EM field. Gentle, so as not to shock him as he had accidentally done the first time, yet firm and persistent in a way that constantly reminded Sam that the other was there and refused to be ignored.

Sam, however, could not respond back fully although he had attempted futile pushes of acknowledgment that had left Orion ecstatic with joy and leaving the former to roll his optics in amusement. Surely Orion had better things to do than start a mental conversation with him? (Now that just sounded weird.) But Sam couldn't push away Orion's infectious happiness and slowly he found himself wanting to be able to communicate in the same manner as the others, not only for the benefit of a new method of speaking but also because of the loneliness.

That feeling corrupted Sam's processors and invaded every nook and cranny of his mind. He was alone, utterly alone, and he knew it. The brief hugs that he had always received from his parents (his father more unwilling than his mother) and the gentle brushes of fingers and lips from Mikaela were all gone. Never had he missed those simple touches as he did now.

Cybertronians, despite their enhanced sensors and the bio metal that made up their skin, felt little need to touch or comfort through physical contact but rather gave each other mental pats on the back via magnetic fields and invisible threads that connected each spark to one another through bonds.

Sam felt no such bonds, his mind unable to fully connect and the others unwilling to befriend such a glitch leaving that feeling of emptiness to grow and fester within his spark. But honestly, he had never truly cared or stopped to even think about it as his mind was far to preoccupied with his task at hand, so he didn't question his lack of bonds, his lack of friends other than Orion Pax (but that didn't count because Orion made it a bad habit to befriend _everyone_ ), or the way the other bots grouped together in little pods of gossip and discussion leaving him to read the archived books in the empty libraries on his own (which had become a favorite hobby of his).

Until that one day.

It was a nightmare. Another one of those dreams that invaded his sleep and left him lying awake, paralyzed on his berth in utter shock. His processors overworking, thinking, and re-thinking over what had just happened, trying to grasp onto some familiar ground on which it could work off of to gain some understanding his confused mind had rattled. He could, in the back of his mind, hear the sound of his heavy intakes of air (a habit as Cybertronians did not rely on such a sustenance of life) and the whirring of his fans attempting to cool down his systems, and try as he might, he could not calm down.

He had seen her. He saw her every night when his optics finally shuttered close and his mind offlined.

They were at the restaurant sitting at the far end, their favorite spot, surrounded by the brightly lit windows on both sides allowing for golden beams to wash across the table (even though Sam always complained it was far to sunny). They had chosen that specific seat with the bright, cherry red upholstery to spot Bumblebee nearby, the Camaro enjoying the sunlight and playfully honking at nearby children that sent them scattering in a fit of shock and laughter.

Mikaela watched with amusement as the two sipped quietly at steaming drinks that burned the tongue upon contact (but Sam would never admit she had a stronger tolerance than him). The two had found the small, quaint diner after having gotten lost on a desolate road (Bumblebee's fault entirely) and became stranded in the restaurant after the yellow autobot officially shut down to repair his malfunctioning satellites (the reason they had become lost in the first place). It had, then, become a favorite spot for the two and the torturous florescent lighted hell of Sam's dreams.

"I would like to have kids," Mikaela had told him one day, her eyes watching the little toddlers hobble around the parking lot as Bumblebee once again let out a honk that scattered them like startled pigeons. "Children or devil spawns?" Sam had asked in amusement as he too turned to watch the outdoor conundrum. Mikaela playfully smacked him before proudly declaring that any child of hers would be an angel. Sam did not deny this for Mikaela could utterly annihilate a two story tall robot and he did little to want to experiment on what she could do to him, but he couldn't help but feel warmth seep through his heart.

She could have be anything, she could have become anyone with the world literally sitting in the palm of her hand, but she wanted none of it. All she wanted was a future, to grow old together, and to sit upon the warmth of a fire with children at her side. She was perfect, and Sam couldn't help but play along with her wistful thinking. They would have two kids, a boy and a girl (Mikaela insisted on a girl), a dog that would pad along their feet (certainly nothing like Mojo), and a house by the warmth of the summer beach where they could feel the sand grit between their toes and the water lap against their legs. That was the future they wanted. That was the future they would never get.

Sam once again startled online with his optics brightening in the sudden darkness of his room before slowly adjusting and dimming. His servos curled against the edge of the berth as his spark thudded painfully against his chasis in the reminiscent feeling of a heart, another odd quality that had manifested itself into his new body from the old.

There was a deep, desperate exhale of air as Sam once again found himself thrown back into the world of reality. He didn't understand why. Why every night he was faced with the same dream, the same memory of Mikaela in that very diner with the very same conversation (although sometimes it changed briefly), some distant memory he had long forgotten. He would always awaken, every lunar cycle when the nocturnal workers would hustle through their shifts much as he, and the others, had done so in the sol. It always, without fail left him baffled and wide awake, and it always left him wondering why.

Why didn't he hug her, reach out to her? Why didn't he spill out his darkest secrets of fear and loneliness? Why didn't he cry? Why did they always have the same conversations of a future they would never have? Why didn't he warn her of the impending doom, that she would die? Because somewhere, deep within his mind, hidden within his subconscious, he knew it wasn't her, and that hurt.

It hurt far beyond anything Sam had ever known, worse than death (and believe him he knew). His stupid mind refused to let him forget of all that was lost, of all that now ceased to exist, a past never meant to be forgotten, and a future that he must protect. Somewhere, at some point, Sam had begun to accuse the Allspark of this phenomenon, an attempt to remind him every waking, and non-waking, moment of his existence as to why, why he was there. But regardless if it was the Allspark's doing or his own mind, bedridden with guilt, the dreams haunted him, punished him regularly, and left his spark painfully alone to bear the weight of the agony.

Until that one day.

Sam stared sightlessly at the ceiling, pausing to allow his mind to slow down and calm the sudden intake of information from the residing nightmare when he felt it. It was gentle and soothing, a feeling of light electricity buzzing its way across Sam's outer receptors which he immediately recognized to be an EM field, Orion's EM field.

This had startled Sam as his body froze in shock, but Orion was persistent, having felt Sam's fear from the slight bond that had, unknowingly to Sam due to his inability to recognize it, formed. Through Sam's panic ridden mind, he had somehow, subconsciously, reached out through the almost non-existent bond searching for the one and only connection he had which was now the reason as to why Orion found himself searching for Sam in return.

Sam, unsure of how to tell Orion that he was fine or to push the other away, found that he could not ignore the latter and without thought, whether from his fear hazed mind or from the deprivation of contact he sought for, Sam had unhesitatingly let Orion in. Orion, upon feeling Sam's firewalls back away was quick to give him a soothing, mental hug that shocked Sam, as never before had he felt something so powerfully emotional. The fear and sorrow Orion felt almost overwhelmed him if it wasn't for the constant feeling of protective relief that Orion emitted as to comfort or console him, and it was then that Sam understood why Cybertronians never found a need for physical contact.

This powerful feeling could never be conveyed through words or touch alone, and that invisible, delicate, threaded bond that connected the Allspark's chosen one and the savior from the past strengthened.

 **AN- Thank you for all the reviews, it really made my day! I hope you enjoyed the second installment and please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

He was dying. There was no way to avoid the subject.

Sam had already cheated death, so there was no fear in it now, but there was still the pain, the unbearable, blistering pain that came with death. His psyche, not meant to control the vast engineering of a Cybertronian's body was now having difficulties maintaining the necessities of daily living.

The usual supply of energon that all bots, from the beginning as sparklings, craved as a valuable sustenance was heavily rejected by Sam's mind and thus not as easily consumed. His body was slowly deteriorating as he withdrew into the sluggish control of his new movements and found restriction. The body of Ante Finem was slowly dying, decaying, and Sam could do nothing, absolutely nothing.

He had known from the beginning that his body was not meant to last. He had come here to do a job, to aid Orion Pax and the creation of Optimus Prime, to die when all was done and a future of a renewed hope restored, and then, after all was finished, reborn once again into the body of Samuel Witwicky to guide Optimus one last time into the light of victory. It was the Allspark's will, and he knew that avoiding his fate would only lead to another reversal of time and the whole process starting all over again and again until he got it right (honestly he should have just let Megatron keep the dang thing).

The only difference now was that he was running out of time.

It had happened one early sol when Sam had awoken from recharge and, as usual, threw his legs over the edge of the berth before pushing his weight forward and landing stubbornly on his stabilizing servos. Long story short, it failed. Sam had immediately collapsed from the weight and found himself toppling to the ground in the most indignant manner and a loud crash.

Letting out a mumbled curse, Sam grabbed the edge of a nearby table and propped himself back up but quickly found that he could not stand. The joints of his knees refused to bend properly and the electricity that coursed through his legs did nothing, as a result, he could put little to no weight on his appendages forcing him to stay paralyzed on the floor, back against the wall.

Of course it had not gone unnoticed.

Orion Pax, good old happy-go-lucky, goody-two-shoes, let's be peaceful and righteous Orion Pax came running in. Of course. But really, Sam shouldn't be complaining because he needed the help. "What happened!?" Orion had exclaimed fearfully as Sam remained in a sitting position although he did try, in a pitifully futile attempt, to get up. Orion's servos had reached out to help Sam, yet they remained posed in the air, too afraid to do any more, as Orion could feel Sam's deep frustration and pain over their bond, the link practically buzzing with his anxiety.

"Nothing," Sam hissed out as Orion watched him carefully for injuries or the cause of the fall. After a slight pause, and his legs still refusing to budge, Sam had to admit to the latter that he had simply tripped (no he most certainly did not) and that there was nothing to worry about (there was everything to worry about). With no sign of recovery, Sam had instead opted to shut down his legs, reboot them, and hope for the best which Orion decided faithfully to stay by his side and watch over him (much to Sam's embarrassment).

"Perhaps you should go see a medic," Orion spoke calmly as if it were a simple suggestion, yet Sam could feel the bond vibrate in a warning tone that yes, he _would_ go see a medic as soon as the little epidemic was over. Sam was about to object and angrily retort until Orion gave him an angry scowl of disapproval and warning, the very same scowl that adorned Optimus Prime's face when Skids and Mudflap decided to make a tower out of human canons and ammunition (now that had been funny although Lennox's reaction was even better).

So that was why Orion had decided to take a day off, which Alpha Trion was more than glad to oblige, before dragging Sam off to who knows where. The former claiming that he knew of a great medic, although still a trainee, that he had met while still in the Iacon academy. Sam had his suspicions but said nothing in response, and even if it was who he thought, there was no point. It didn't matter who told him, he already knew that time was running out, and he would die.

The two had arrived by public train, because Sam could not afford an alt transportation mode, at the Iacon's medical unit and learning of medical science institution (Sam cringed at the name) where Orion's supposed friend resided. The building was grand with metal structured pillars that stretched outwards and curved into a delicate needle point that glinted brilliantly in the morning glaze. There was glass roads that swerved around, to and from, the institution, transformed vehicles hovering over the delicately clear lenses of the road where tall pillared structures peaked out, no doubt emitting a glowing cast of light during the lunar cycles. The building held a massive glass dome of silvery white with slitted panels all across the buildings sides as entrances and exits to moving vehicles carrying the precious cargo of the sick and injured in emergencies accompanied by the loud sound of wailing sirens off into the distance.

The two entered through the grand entrance where a bot was waiting for them in the lobby, and Sam was torn between wanting to hug the other or back away in fear of a flying wrench. "Ante, meet Ratchet. Ratchet, this is Ante Finem," Orion greeted the two which caused the other to look up from the data pad he had previously been scrutinizing. He glanced briefly over Sam before turning to Orion with a slight scowl. "Your late," he replied simply which Sam had to resists a heavy sigh of amusement for some bots never changed.

Ratchet appeared smaller than Sam remembered, A large significance of his body mass, which mainly consisted of medical equipment, was missing or had been reduced for he had yet to achieve his grand status of CMO and the equipment and experience that came with it. But his face still held the stern gaze and he could still see the slight warmth within the other's optics despite his gruff exterior (something Sam has gotten good at seeing). He did not ask questions, having already been briefed by a panic stricken Orion Pax and had already told Sam that he would much rather speak to his patients through the privacy of a room rather than the open.

"Well, let's get this over with," Ratchet heaved out after responding to something Orion had said which Sam had not heard, and after a brief wave from Ratchet to follow, the three went down the corridors of the large institution. Large metal sliding doors with paneled codes kept restricted areas closed to the public and hued, glowing force fields adorned other doorways as a measure of safety precaution and to prevent the mingling of airborne diseases.

The group had went through one such force field, the gentle blue enveloping Sam as he walked by, a cold magnetic force that fizzed at his EM field, stripping the air from his chasis which Sam had to fight down a sense of panic that bubbled within his spark. But the fear soon fled as he reached the other side, fresh air once again filling is diaphragm, and he could immediately tell (through his delicate sensors) that the air had been purified and cleansed multiple times through the whirring machines and vents that adorned the hallways and rooms.

"This is the sparkling chamber," Ratchet had explained upon Sam's wonderment. "Normally I would avoid bringing visitors to this sector, but the main rooms are busy ever since the news of some underground resistance started." He said it with a scoff as if he didn't believe one word, but Sam could feel the dread sink into his system as his processor filed and stored away the information.

The group had then turned around another bend of similar white washed walls with glass panels on either side serving as gaping windows to the rooms across, lights glowing and letting a warm hue wash over the halls. The institution not only worked as a training facility but also a highly maintained and organized hospital.

Ratchet ignored all this and quickly walked towards the other side, Orion close at his heels, but Sam had stopped at a window, his optics widening in shock before he shuttered them and looked again, as if anticipating the image to disappear. Ratchet had then paused, and upon turning around to find Sam frozen, gave a slight shrug to Orion and retraced his steps. "Is something wrong?" he asked, unsure what had startled Sam and slightly fearful that this was one of those spells that Orion had told him about, but Sam was still standing and quickly responded, "Is that … ?"

He had pointed in amazement at the room before them, visible only through the large arch of the bullet proof window. Ratchet turned to see what had so clearly amazed him before narrowing his optics and nodding his helm once. "Sparklings, yes." But that was not what Sam had wanted to say. The words died in his throat and his servos shook slightly from the pain or the excitement he could not fathom because standing before him (well more like lying) was a small bright yellow sparkling with small door wings already twitching slightly as he breathed. Bumblebee, it was Bumblebee! He didn't have to ask to know, to recognize the innocent face of his best friend.

Ratchet had glanced worriedly at Sam before turning to Orion who, also in worry, reached out through their bond in hopes of finding what had startled Sam. This quickly jolted Sam out of his revere as he turned to his companions and gave them a sheepish look as an apology. "Sorry, I just … ?" He just saw Bumblebee.

Orion smiled slightly in amusement, feeling the happiness that radiated from Sam's end of the bond while Ratchet only nodded his head in understanding, used to odd reactions by new time visitors. He then quickly urged the two back through the hallways stating that he was on a busy schedule. Sam took one last glance at the window, watching Bumblebee's sleeping form against the crib like berth as Orion and Ratchet continued to converse through the halls reminiscing over lost time. "One day …" he whispered quietly to himself before turning away and quickly following the others.

But through each step he took, he could feel the pain that stuck through his spark. One day you'll watch the world around you crumble, one day you'll find yourself fighting an endless war, one day you'll lose your voice, come across Earth and meet a boy called Samuel James Witwicky. One day you'll die, and I won't be alive to see it.

He couldn't bear to say that.

 **AN- Thanks for all the reviews, I very well appreciate it. I usually try to update every Saturday; however, I may not be able to next week due to a busy schedule and I'm not quite sure how to do one major part in the next chapter, but thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sam nervously twitched his servos (mostly out of reflex) and resisted the urge to high tail out of the library and towards the nearest moon in another galaxy far, far, far away (emphasis on far). Why do you ask?

Because he was screwed.

He knew Ratchet tended to think of more colorful, proper, curse words that, as a Cybertronian, he should (or really shouldn't) say, but right now Sam couldn't process the whole situation and the inevitable doom that was sure to come much less think, so, for the time being, screwed was the only word he could think of that summed up the whole situation.

Was it really that bad? Probably not. Did Sam care? Absolutely not.

Alpha Trion was walking back and forth across the vast, open space of the inner library, books stacked across the pentagon shaped walls, pillaged high with a stairwell that spiraled across the sides and led to the second floor balcony stocked with even more books, some of which had yet to be organized and lay strewn across the tables hazardously. A large window allowing the last remaining light to peak in.

The said bot, like many others, towered over Sam's smaller form, being a formidable height of twice his own and Alpha Trion, to accompany his expanding knowledge and ancient appearance, had a long beard that dragged across his chest plate. Granted that Sam was march larger than the mini-bots he often saw scrounging away at the windows and floors, serving drinks, and filing away data, Sam was still puny in comparison and he couldn't help but swallow back bile as if he were back in his old body.

"I apologize for the delay, Ante Finem. My deepest gratitude for waiting," Alpha Trion then spoke to Sam which startled him out of his stupor, as he had yet to notice the other had finished with his work before the lunar shift. "You wished to speak with me?" Sam asked hesitantly in hopes to disperse the awkwardness (although it only worsened), yet Orion had merely laughed at his fears when he had consulted in the other after telling him he would be unable to join in that lunar's conversation and had reassured Sam that Trion was as merciful as he was wise.

"Yes, have a seat," Alpha Trion spoke out while dragging out a chair, presumably for Sam, before sitting at the opposite side. A table made from a while metal slab laid out with a glass panel underneath that held, once again, more books under the protective covering, yet these were under strict orders to never be touched for reasons still unknown to one of Sam's own status.

He was nervous and really, he had every right to be. Although he had never truly met the bot back on Earth, or even seen him for that matter, he had heard the respect in Optimus's voice each time he spoke of the other. A deep respect that only boosted Sam's anxiety, and in a time where Sam held more secrets than truths, he feared one as wise as Alpha Trion least he be figured out.

Sam had always tried to mingle in with the others, to, in no way or situation, stick out so to attract as little attention as possible, but when your best, and only, friend is Orion Pax, a well liked student training under Alpha Trion of all bots, you know your going to get attention. Especially when every bot thinks you don't deserve it.

Perhaps it was the spreading rumors that led to this moment or the acknowledgment of Sam's hidden past with the Allspark, but either way, Alpha Trion had called upon Sam to meet and speak with him after his shift. It seemed odd and highly suspicious because the last time someone had asked to meet him in a similar manner was with a government agent and needless to say, that did not turn out well.

"How good are you at games?" Alpha Trion asked which caused Sam to pause midway through his frazzled processor's thinking and simply shutter his optics back at the other in confusion. "What?" he blurted out without thinking and immediately regretted it as he bit back his glossa, but Alpha Trion only looked amused as he grabbed a pale, white box with intricate glowing markings webbed across its sides. A subspace cube specifically made to store multiple objects through a containment field although it was used more commonly for storage rather than actual protection.

Alpha Trion then pulled out another box before opening this one and setting up what appeared to be a board game. A tiny cube was placed onto the middle of the table where he then flicked it causing the shiny thing to erupt in a brilliance of tiny metallic squares that separated from its original form, expanded, and spread across the table top, covering the open glass with the sound of tinkering bells in just a few nano-kliks.

Sam watched amazed as the board began to glow with silver hued points on certain parts of the metal screen in a checkered pattern as Alpha Trion pulled out numerous flattened domes which he then handed the blue to Sam, taking the red for himself. A board game. Somewhere his human mind remained befuddled, but his Cybertronian mind had immediately clicked in recognition as he had seen some co-workers playing the game during the night shifts when the work had settled down and there was less messages to process or decode. However, he also remembered that this is one of the lesser liked of board games, and the workers, after only having played it for less than the equivalence of one human hour, had promptly quit and never picked it up again. Even more so, he recognized the similarities of chess.

"I'm afraid that I have never played a board game before," Sam replied wearily (it was technically true if you discounted his human years). "Well there's a first time for everything," Alpha Trion spoke confidently while quickly explaining the game and giving Sam a brief (very long) rundown of the mechanics which, although similar to chess, held different movements for each piece.

In the end, the purpose of the game held remarkable similarities to Sam's more profound memory of the common board game which instigated the capture of the other king. Sadly, Sam never cared for chess and now found himself pondering over which movements were susceptible as the last time he had played it was with his mother, who in all her glory, had declared every thinkable move Sam committed utterly illegal by the justification of her rule book (because it was apparently illegal for a son to attempt to take out his own mother's pawn or something … ).

The King, only recognizable by the black, crowned marking on the top of the dome sat precariously in the middle of Sam's side of the board as he watched the glowing lines trail soft hues of neon blue along the cracks, highlighting and tracing along the board's edge.

The King was obviously meant to be kept away from the action; however, Sam faced no qualms in placing his King in the line of fire which had caused Alpha Trion to give him a spectacle look. Sam shrugged while answering the unspoken question, "A King worthy of the lives of others must be a noble King worthy of respect or a battle won will mean nothing for the hopes of peace."

From Sam's experience, it was true. He could still remember the long hours of lecture over the course of human history and the reminders that war always brewed first from the seething hatred towards the central power whether it be a restricting government or the monarchy and tyranny of the crown. Regardless, he couldn't fathom the purpose of fighting a war if, in the end, a weak, coward King hid behind his forces and let another war brew just beyond the surface of his own stupidity. Why follow such a leader that only promised another war within the next decade? Heck, for all Sam cared, let him die.

The elder's response was that of pure amusement as his face, although remaining neutral, held the creases of acknowledgment in his optics that glowed brightly in the dimming sol. "Indeed," Alpha Trion responded, "But in a game of such little value, with uncharted disadvantages, how many lives are you unwilling to sacrifice before you lose?"

Sam remained perplexed, unwavering to Alpha Trion's bluff, only, it wasn't a bluff. Sam's optics widened a fraction as he found himself watching the other's move, utterly perplexed at the simplicity of it all. The pawns had been lined together as a bridge, a few being moved after a recent realignment, but the rest remained undisturbed. He had moved a domed piece, reminiscent to that of a knight, and had easily shredded Sam's odd attempt at a brief line of defense after having moved the King to close to enemy forces, and watched as the King was successfully caught in a momentous battle, granted that it was poor decision making on Sam's part (but still).

"I heard you had to go to the facility for a medical check, how are your systems?" Alpha Trion spoke leisurely, distracting Sam from the game at hand (which he knew was a lost cause as he was already beyond the point of return). "Everything is fine, they couldn't find a problem," Sam mumbled back effectively entranced by the game as it was now his turn (and he was going to prolong this game as long as possible win or lose, that cheat). Yet, despite his reassuring words, even he could hear the obvious lie.

"That's good, Orion has become fond of you, and he would be devastated if something were to happen to you," Trion's voice filled with warning. Sam stopped breathing, his spark fluttering in surprise then fear before his optics widened. No longer looking at the board, Sam looked up at Alpha Trion's face that although kind and gentle, held wisdom and knowledge that Sam feared just as much as he respected. It was at that moment that he understood: Alpha Trion knew. He _knew_ , and Sam couldn't hold back the panic.

"Ante Finem? I am not familiar with the name. Rather peculiar …," Alpha Trion continued, either oblivious or ignoring Sam's shocked and fragmented response of silence as he continued to move another chess piece after Sam. Another pause of silence before Sam answered back hesitantly. " … I'll take that as a compliment," (Blame the Allspark, and its horrible sense of humor) as he tried to focus once again on the game but failed miserably. Trion continued to stare at the game with an impassive face watching as Sam nervously moved the King away from the front lines in his dazed shock although it was most likely a bad move seeing as Trion was able to quickly keep up.

The stony silence continued as Sam found himself quickly defeated. Alpha Trion then leaned his servos against the table while venting out a heavy sigh that made Sam inwardly flinch. Finally, after having enough of the silence, Trion began to speak again in soft, quiet drones. "Tell me Ante Finem, how heavy is your burden?" Sam paused, looking up in surprise at the other's optics that shined brightly in the dimming lights of the lunar cycle.

It was there in the growing darkness of Cybertron with only the glowing, golden lights of street lamps, Alpha Trion and Sam played the first out of many games to come through the remainder of their life time, and it was there that Sam, if only slightly, let go of his burdens.

 **AN- This wasn't my first take on this scene, but my own lack of creativity is a little off. Regardless thank you for reading and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Something is troubling you," Alpha Trion had spoken calmly, watching Sam through the edge of his optic rims.

Sam had made it a habit to join the other during the long hours of the sol when his tedious assignments were finished and the continuous bullying had ceased to common name calling and shoves. He helped reorder the main library along with the filing rooms and better yet, the sanctums from time to time (although Sam was far to enriched with awe and fear of touching anything to actually be of any help during those visits).

Regardless, Alpha Trion had become used to Sam's presence and with infinite patience, personally taught Sam the basics of Cybertron that he had been deprived of during his schooling years, favored for the more conventional use of academic knowledge.

Orion Pax also came on occasion but mostly to discuss with Trion the work load of the day and some latest inscriptions he had managed to process, but he never left without a slight wave of goodbye to Sam and a little mental nudge of confidence.

However, that was not what was troubling Sam as he looked back at Alpha Trion, watching the other carefully. The wise mech now knew of Sam's origins, the growing loneliness and the future beyond Cybertron's borders, but he did not know _everything_ , and Sam intended to keep it that way. For he feared that letting the truth out, letting another sentimental creature _know_ would be to seal the fate of the future in impermeable stone, and more than anything, Sam feared that.

So each time Trion watched him carefully for any signs or premonitions, Sam would watch back with equal intent. Or at least that's what Sam intended, yet he found that he could not bottle up the fear that weighed heavily upon his spark like lead. So he asked.

"What do you think of Sentinel Prime?" Sam spoke cautiously.

Alpha Trion had stopped working, pausing for a nano-klik in his duty as he mulled over the subject of the sol's, no doubt, long topic of discussion. Sentinel had recently raised in the ranks to the ultimate achievement of Prime after his successor and, has since, been providing non stop speeches to vying spectators and fans of admiration that have respected the Golden Age of Cybertron. True to his nationalist ideals, he was a strong believer and highly praised the current caste system and thus was on the edge, teetering between the support of the elite council and the angered working class that screamed for change amidst closed processors. Silence being the only answer to their cries.

Sam could still feel a resentment and cynicism that ran deeply through his memories as a human. It was a bitter grudge that immediately put the two on opposite sides of the spectrum, and Alpha Trion was quick to take notice.

"He is a mech of many visions," Trion spoke calmly, his words carefully chosen before adding, "With our current system, such an ambitious mind set could prove to be ... dangerous."

Sam, his optics guarded, watched the hues of the sunset. Colors streaking across the sky in vibrant shades as the street lamps began to flicker on. Transformed vehicle modes remaining undisturbed by the phenomenon of paints that hung in the air like silk. Sam always envied this view, envied the Cybertronians for belonging in this home, for _having_ a home.

Sam let out a heavy sigh as air was pushed out of his vents in a small gust. His mind far to preoccupied by the weight of Sentinel Prime's reign to be dreaming of whimsical folly. He knew and it pestered him all throughout the cycles since his discovery that Sentinel's rise to power was proof of the future's past course and Sam was powerless to stop or even warn anyone of the oncoming danger that would eventually destroy them all.

"I fear him," Sam whispered quietly in a gentle hush (and as much as he was in denial, he could not avoid the truth) as Trion walked towards him. A servo placed reassuringly against his shoulder in a soft touch as the two had no bond shared between them for contact otherwise. "Do you fear the mech himself?" Alpha Trion asked, curious of the future that Sam refused to enlighten him.

Sam turned to watch the sunset once again. The very same sky that would one day be shrouded in ash and thick, brewing clouds that would whither away the atmosphere, burning sulfur into the pungent air until oxygen only came in small puffs of pollutant, turning Cybertron into a living hell. "I fear what he will do," Sam answered back.

The sol had paved way to another lunar cycle with Sam watching Trion, stylus in his right servo and tablet in the other. The stars gleaming brightly against the darkening sky of inky black as Sam left the older bot to his own devices. Sam had then turned towards the main corridors searching for the quickest route back to the meeting place where Orion Pax was no doubt waiting.

Servo pressed against the wall, Sam traced his way along the path as his legs began to shake slightly from the pain, nerves fighting against the robotic protofrom and his mind once again rejecting the wires that had long replaced his cells, flesh for metal, and heart for spark.

It was then that Sam suddenly felt the object (most likely another leg), bluntly shoved before his stabilizing servo and immediately felt the rush of air and the fear that seized his spark as the ground came closer. Letting out a startled gasp, Sam felt the impact as his hands, too slow to reach forward and stop his fall, had allowed his face to meet the ground in a painful clang that would have caused Sam to wince had it not been for his dazed state of shock, processor slowly working to understand what had happened.

"Waste of parts," a voice said above Sam. "What do you think you're doing here, glitch?"

Sam didn't answer back immediately as he struggled to sit back up, yet his body (stupid mechanical body) decided just at that moment to stop listening and all he could muster was to sit up slightly and to glare with hate filled eyes at his attackers. The same group of interns.

Three of them (because if Sam learned anything about trouble it was that it always comes in threes) stood before Sam with glowering faces of glowing optics that seemed brighter in the dimming lights of the halls. Ancient, stoned figures standing guard on either side of the otherwise empty hallway being the only witness to the encounter as Sam continued to struggle, screaming internally for his cables to move.

He could feel their EM fields buzz against his own, violent and angry. "What do you want?" he hissed back, face still remaining strong and defiant despite his inner turmoil. "I want to understand why a damn glitch like you is so special," the confident one said, audio buzzing in anger and optics narrowed to silver slits that shined in the dying light before he leaned down and whispered quietly, "Even if I have to take you apart piece by piece."

Sam frowned and immediately he felt the nervous fear that choked against his receptors because despite the many vorns spent on Cybertron in the body of Ante Finem, he still remembered his life as a human, and he still remembered the torture of the leering scientists from human and bots alike (he still shuddered at the memory of the bug eyed Scalpel).

Yet instead of backing down, Sam showed the group a crooked grin of amusement. "Hey, I don't know how much knowledge you can gain form dissecting me, but if laughter was the best medicine, your face could cure the world." The groups reaction was immediate as Sam was pinned against the wall in a sudden whir of movement causing his processor to once again work overtime at an attempt to correct the sudden change.

Sam could feel the constricting pain as the first bot, the one that had tripped him, grabbed him from his neck cables and lifted him with one fist pressed against the wall. "I dare you to say that again, glitch," he fumed angrily, audio slightly muddled by his anger, but Sam, despite his pain, merely smiled back in amusement. "Hey, hey, no harm, but one question? Why is it acceptable for you to be an idiot, but not for me to point it out?

Wrong move, Sam found himself flung against the wall, back hitting the other side of the hall in a loud thud as he let out a huff of pain, body collapsing against the ground. The same bot began to walk towards Sam again as Sam, paralyzed on the ground, let out a slight groan. Brushing his servos against the ground in an attempt to grasp a strong hold, Sam felt the weight of the other's stabilizing servo land heavily against his mid-back and then the heavy thud as his body was once again pinned to the ground.

"You probably already know this, glitch, but you don't belong," he said roughly before Sam felt something slam against his helm and the world turned black.

Sam slowly awoke to a processor ache. The feeling of pounding resonating throughout his helm, thudding against his processor, and a burning pain that stretched behind his optics. Slowly booting online, Sam's optics began to shutter, lightly glowing before turning full blast in an attempt to adjust to the darkness of the hall.

"Ante?" a voice called out worriedly causing Sam to jolt and turn his head towards the sound although this only further enhanced the pain causing him to let out a frustrated groan. Immediately Orion's face appeared before Sam causing his optics to shudder in confusion. "Optimus?" he echoed quietly causing the other's face to reel back in shock. "Ante, can you see me?" he asked in a worried tone that jolted Sam out of his daze.

Sam's optics glancing wildly about settled on Orion's and he immediately stuttered out an apology as Orion's face plates scrunched together in confusion at the name, but he ignored this in favor of fretting over Sam's injuries, scanners (albeit weak) whirring about as he attempted to find further injuries. Finally, after determining the extent of the injury, he turned to glare at Sam, optics alighted with determination; the very same face of Optimus Prime.

"What happened?"

Sam said nothing as Orion continued to search for answers through his body language, EM field buzzing around them in frustration at the secrecy, yet Sam could say nothing as he merely looked down at the sheen of the tiled floors that, even in the dull glow of the stars, reflected brilliance across its surface, including Sam's own face which stared back at him hauntingly.

He hated it, he hated looking at the mirror, seeing his reflection and expecting to see one face but instead finding himself staring at another. The blue glowing optics so alien compared to the gentle hues of human eyes, the warm, liquid, brown of his _own_ eyes. He missed that, being able to touch everything through the smooth contours of actual fleshed hands, and more importantly, he missed walking around, running on Earth, _his_ planet, where he knew he belonged.

He missed that feeling of walking among other humans.

"Can you stand?" Orion asked. Sam's response was silence as he continued to stare sightlessly at the ground. Orion let out a frustrated sigh, vents letting out steam as the larger bot slowly got up. "I'll go get help," he decided after determining that Sam would not open up to him nor was the spark bond responsive as the other laid dormant despite his pestering. Left with no choice, Orion's only option would be to call for a med-bot or transportation in case some major malfunctioning had occurred that Orion feared his scanners were unable to detect.

However, as he began to take a step forward he felt a small servo grasp onto the ridge of his leg, too weak to do damage but far too determined to let go. Orion Pax stopped, hesitating slightly as he feared that Sam would truly need medical attention. "Ante Finem," he said quietly, a warning tone that he was serious, but the other refused to let go, thin digits still clinging onto Orion like a sparkling.

Finally, after another sigh and a slight patronizing smile, Orion slowly sat down in deliberate movements so as not to startle Sam before leaning his back against the wall, helm tilted slightly. He watched Sam through the corner of his optics as the other continued to stew in silence, yet, despite the stillness, his servos shook slightly, trembling as Orion felt each shake.

Orion was curious, deathly so, of who Opitmus was; someone Sam had clearly held close, if the tone of his voice was anything to go by, yet the other had never mentioned the name before or even alluded to the fact that he himself had any prior connections before coming the the Iacon Archives. But for now Orion swindled his curiosity and instead spoke in a hushed tone. "Tu non es solus."

Much to Orion Pax's surprise, Sam reacted immediately, body going still as he let go of Orion. The silence advancing, yet Orion was determined to fix this as he continued to speak, filling the void of dead air. "Alpha Trion has been teaching me some other languages, and I'm not sure if I pronounced it correctly but-"

"Te sunt non solas."

Orion stopped, optics widening slightly (almost comically if Sam were in a better mood) as Sam turned to slowly look up at the other.

Yes, Sam knew that language; he knew many after his absorption of the Allspark's power, but more so because it was Latin and he himself, as a human, studied the language beginning with the periodic table of chemistry to his own personal studies of what Miles used to call nerdy hobbies and a waste of time. It wasn't English and it certainly wasn't proper pronunciation, but it was the mother tongue that created all other languages, and it was a reminder of home.

"Te sunt non solas," he repeated.

You are not alone.

 **AN- So, once again, google is my friend (cheat sheet) and has helped me with the latin. This chapter turned out longer than I originally planned and this should be (no guarantees) the end of Sam's self angst. We'll see cause I'm kind of writing this on the fly. I have a general idea of point A to point B and a few points inbetween, but I'm still working out the kinks in my head. Thanks for everyone who has read and reviewed and if you have suggestions or an ideas, go ahead, I'm all ears.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Slag it!" Sam whispered under his breath angrily (to his amusement, Ratchet's language was rubbing off on him whether that was good or bad Sam didn't know). Orion Pax and Sam were waiting at the deck halls for the recent shipment of files and grams to come intersecting through from a sister branch to the Iacon halls. Praxus, a bordering city-state which, due to the increasing fear of oncoming war, had brought in some of its most famed relics for safekeeping within the halls, closely guarded as Cybertron's greatest treasures. Due to the secrecy of the whole mission, few guards were asked in the dangerous transportation and even fewer were notified to haul the relics on a need-to-know basis.

Orion had once, in great enthusiasm, reminisced with Sam over his own experiences in traveling to Praxus with Alpha Trion and a few other monitors and data clerks. An informative visit that lasted multiple cycles. He had eagerly told Sam about the large peering glass buildings with the metal arched gates and the inscripted stones that paved way to the grand new architect of the recent vorns, embarking its way across the new era of the Golden Age.

Orion had once eagerly urged Sam to go check out the monuments himself and to relish in the grand scale of the city in person (robot?), but Sam had determinedly shook his helm in slight amusement at the idea as well as irritation. No, he could do no such thing as his duty relied upon the safety of the other, and (the excuse that he told Orion) he simply could not afford the trip as vehicle mode scans have become more expensive with the need for more transportation leaving Sam with no option but to take the public rails which were by no means convenient. So instead he was stuck at the halls assorting through files and data that no other bot would look at for thousands of human centuries, in fact, Sam wouldn't be surprised if all the data was wiped clean during the war. The mere idea made Sam grimace.

The two were now hauling the crates back into the safety of the library (well Sam was attempting to anyway) and were ushering the wheeled carts through the passages where it left squeaky tremors echoing across the empty corridors. Orion and Sam had both been tasked with the job of retrieving and sorting through the old relics as Alpha Trion had placed great trust in both of them to what Orion had passionately called a "humble task and a grand privilege" (whatever that meant). Yet despite being tasked with such an honor, Sam still found himself struggling and mumbling under his breath (it wasn't really cursing if it wasn't in his own language) throughout the whole job, something Orion found amusing as well as berating him for his unadulterated words.

As the two were sorting through the files, Sam found his way through the last box. A single parched book, older than the rest if the faded cover and tinseled paper were anything to go by. Paper was no longer commonly used as opposed to storing data and knowledge through hammerspace (or at least that's what Sam liked to call it) where it was easily accessible by all and preserved throughout the vorns. However, in the older eras where such success of technology had yet to be fully adapted, paper, applied from organic life forms harvested from other planets, were used to record history. But to find one such documented piece now was almost impossible as all had been heavily encrypted and guarded by other archives under lock and key for their ancient value.

Mesmerized by the weight of familiarity, Sam gently picked up the book, servos barely touching the cover as he swept his digits across the dusted top. Hesitant, Sam paused in his thinking, mind burning with curiosity, before turning to Orion. "Orion, do you think you could decipher this?" he asked the other who immediately looked up upon hearing his name and glancing at the book in surprise. The other paused as well to think before setting his own assortment of files and data pads down after having finally decided that yes, he needed a break.

Sam then handed Orion the book who, in turn, gently flipped it over the palm of his servo before opening the cover and scanning the pages. "I'm not quite comfortable with the old Praxian language, but I can certainly try," Orion said wearily while staring at the odd shaped helices of the written language. "Although, I am not quite sure if we should be indulging ourselves in such commodity."

Sam held back a chuckle (which would have been a full out laugh) at Orion Pax's expression as well as his formal tongue yet only shook his helm. "It's research." Immediately, Orion, in all his innocence and naivety, nodded his helm in agreement, optics brightening in understanding while muttering in sudden realization that yes, of course it was for such well reasoned purposes (much to Sam's unbounded amusement).

Honestly, Sam worried about the other, he really did. He feared the innocence of Orion Pax now would lead to the poor decisions of Optimus Prime in the future, but at the same time he feared the title of Optimus prime would one day obliterate the innocence that made Orion Pax. Deep within Sam's processor, a little figment of himself wished he would die before the world ever saw that happen.

"The book is about the creation of the primes," Orion spoke out through the hum of silence that resonated throughout the room. "It mostly discusses Primus's creations as well as the betrayal of The Fallen and the doomed destruction of Cybertron that was wreaked by havoc. It is not a common story to tell. The council prefers that we don't remember our ancestors' sins and instead remember only their glories." he continued, optics narrowed slightly in a designated sign that he was deep in thought before handing the book back to Sam. "I, for one, am not entirely familiar with this story."

Sam watched the other's optics before slowly nodding his helm in acceptance and turning to file the book away with the others, hoping to leave it best forgotten. But Orion Pax had yet to let it go as the other continued to ponder over the book's contents. The two had almost finished organizing through the latest cargo hold, having decided to do the rest the next sol, before Orion blurted his own jumbled confusion.

"Why would The Fallen want to destroy such tranquility that Primus had created? Why would any bot want to destroy another?"

Sam had paused in his filing. It was a question that he himself wondered as a human, and it seemed that Cybertron and its citizens were not immune to humanity's greed as well. Both species equally captivated by tangible needs and corrupted by the emotions of nature.

His immediate reaction to the question was "I don't know" where he would have left it at that and forget the whole conversation ever existed, yet one glance in Orion's optics warned Sam that he would be pressed on the matter until the other was graced with a plausible answer.

So instead he heaved out a heavy sigh, pondering over the question himself, mulling over his reasoning and answers before speaking slowly in a detached voice. "Everything is done not merely by self motivation but also the strong belief that you are right, the world and everyone else within it is wrong, and that you, and you alone, are the only thing that can change it."

Orion seemed, for a moment, satisfied with the response as Sam could literally see his processor thinking and storing the information away, but it did not last as Sam found himself once again at the mercy of another question.

"But why sacrifice such peace for your own goals and intentions?"

Sam did not have to pause as he spoke back in an affirmative tone, "Peace is not so easily defined, and it is not so easily achieved. If you truly wish for eternal peace, then you must kill all your villains and all your heroes."

The two had sunk into a quiet silence as Orion's optics continued to stare confusedly into the abyss of thought that Sam had yet to understand. The two working diligently in a robotic fashion (the thought made Sam smirk) as the workload became redundant, but the silence, unknown to Sam, was the beginning of Orion's doubt. The tiny seed that had wormed its way into his processor was now, slowly, winding its way through his mind. That little seed of doubt that would flourish into the mind of Optimus Prime.

Had Sam noticed, he would have realized that exact moment, the second he had handed the book to Orion Pax, was the beginning of the downward spiral of Cybertron's Golden Age.

 **AN- I've been very busy lately, anyone in school will know what I'm talking about, but I was able to write this in my free time, albeit a little shorter than I would have originally wanted. Sam's response to Orion's question was meant to allude to what I assume Megatron was thinking when he himself decided to take power and was supposed to garner sympathy and understanding on Orion's part in the future, but we'll see how that turns out in later chapters. As always, thank you so much for reading and I greatly appreciate the reviews. I can't help but smile each time I see one.**


	7. Chapter 7

Sam found himself once again pitted against Alpha Trion in an intense game of chess (or whatever name Cybertron came up with) as he pondered over his next move, servos clenched neatly under his chin as the other watched back in amusement.

"How are you adjusting?"

Sam looked up in surprise, glancing at the other's lighted optics and amused smile, as rarely did the two ever discuss Sam's past, purposefully phrasing sentences in vague terms so as to dissuade unwanted ears from privileged information. "Fine," Sam responded back curtly while trying to focus back on the game because this time he really wanted to win, and it was true, the bullies had slowly been backing off (Sam still doubted Orion's innocence in that matter) and the robotic body of Ante Finem had yet to fully shut down again since the past spasm.

"How are you? Mentally." He added upon seeing Sam open his mouth to respond with another fine. There was a slight tone in Trion's voice that warned Sam against another vague answer so instead the other pondered slightly over the question. Indeed, he had improved greatly and found himself quickly adapting to Cybertronian life. There was still the occasional dream that tore through his rest and left his mind asundered with pain, yet Orion had been attempting to block out the vivid images through their bond (although the other did not fully understand what a dream was), and for that Sam was grateful.

But after pausing to wonder over his own life, he had quickly come to the conclusion that he was not happy, and really, he couldn't understand why. But, then again, the answer was somewhat obvious. He had lost the meaning of his life, the purpose that gave his existence joy. That sense of belonging to a community at which he understood.

Having saved the world numerous times, perhaps even the universe with towering mechanic creatures by his side, and humans which have all bonded over mutual respect that came from looking death in the eye daily. That was Sam's life, and now, left on the edge of Cybertron's own destruction, it seemed a far cry from Sam's own memory, and now, he couldn't quite fully grasp the purpose of him being here.

"Perhaps it is the Allspark you seek." Alpha Trion spoke, seeming to know Sam's own inner turmoil, as Sam's servo skimmed the top of a domed piece, hesitating and then stopping all together. It was a sudden idea that befuddled Sam, yet he knew that if he said yes, Trion had the means and the power to make it happen.

The words were slowly sinking in as Sam paused, mulling over the idea before simply shaking his head. "I should not." Many times had Sam wondered over the Allspark's hidden motives and many times he had wanted to find the damn cube, crush it, and smelt it into parts out of pure anger from the objects lack of critical thinking (Sam would've helped his friends regardless, but couldn't the cube at least ask?), but he knew it would achieve nothing. Besides, Sam's anger was already slowly dissipating as time passed and the body of Ante Finem reminded him of this new wonder, something no human as ever achieved or even dreamed to achieve, so the mere idea of reminding himself of all the pain, looking at the _thing_ that had caused so much destruction seemed suddenly foolish.

"No." Sam repeated. "There is nothing left to say."

The two resumed the game in silence as Sam found himself, once again, losing to the other's superior skill (Sam had to grudgingly admit he was beat), before he found himself striking up another conversation.

"Would it be alright if I called off work tomorrow?" Sam asked, not looking up at the other as he continued to intently watch the game. At least pretending that he understood how the other had so soundly destroyed his forces.

In turn, Alpha Trion merely rubbed his servos thoughtfully. "I foresee no reason why not. The others will simply have to pick up their weight of the load while you are absent," he spoke calmly which caused Sam to look up in confusion as he knew (really, everyone knew) that he could do little manual labor, so his absence would do little to alter the outcome of the sol's work, yet Trion merely waved back his immediate reply with a simple sweep of his wrist.

"Orion Pax has also asked to leave for the cycle," he spoke out leaving Sam's optics to widen, yet Sam knew the other had purposefully revealed the information to warn him. That was the first he had heard of such news and the idea frightened him, yet he knew he could not question it, not now. "May I ask why you wish to take the sol off?" Trion continued, ignoring Sam's sudden change in thought which caused the said bot to immediately look up before slowly sinking back into his seat, deep in thought.

"Just wanted to see an old friend."

The next cycle, Sam found himself walking towards the Iacon's medical and science institution alone. Checking through the security and returning to the lobby where he had immediately asked the front desk fem if he could speak with Ratchet. The said bot's optics turning to look at him with boredom as her servos continued to click away at the tablet screen, checking in visitors that bypassed Sam, waving goodbye to those who were leaving, and speaking on a comm link device through her headset that connected to airway singles. Her unamused glare simply reminding Sam that she was busy.

Sam hesitated, he needed to see Ratchet if he wanted to get anywhere, but he was hesitant to ask again and make a scene, so instead, he turned around ready to ask a wandering intern but was instead stopped by a voice. "Ante Finem? What are you doing here?"

Sam flinched, his spark spluttering with fear in the familiar, reminiscent motion of a heart, as he turned to the sound of Ratchet's voice. "Ratchet!" he yelled out in a slightly reprimanding and patronizing tone of mock anger which caused the other to raise his optic ridge in confusion. "I had enlisted my presence on your radar using my EM field," Ratchet spoke calmly. "Unless you were so preoccupied, I fail to see how you had missed my warning."

Sam merely glared in response because he knew he couldn't tell Ratchet that his EM field was to weak to pick up or even understand the other's presence, unless it was Orion Pax (simply because _he_ was annoyingly persistent). But if Sam were to walk alone on the crowded city streets of Iacon, he would surely find himself rudely and easily shoved aside by the much stronger magnetic fields of other bots without even the need for physical touch.

When Sam gave no other indication of answering, Ratchet merely sighed and began speaking. "Why are you here? How's your spells?"

"Fine, thanks," Sam responded curtly as the other continued to stare at him in confusion, wondering why he was there if health was not the issue. "I've never been known to be a good conversation partner, surely you're not here to talk?" Ratchet spoke out in slight amusement and a teasing tone. Sam then smirked slightly in response because Ratchet's sense of humor was always somewhat bland (even centuries into the future), but regardless, he shook his head slightly. "I...," Sam hesitated, "I'm here to see a sparkling."

Ratchet's optics immediately brightened in understanding, yet there was a dim expression that remained. "I'm afraid that those rooms are normally restricted from visitors," he said in response causing Sam to shuffle nervously in fear that he had come for nothing. "but, I'll make an exception for you." Sam immediately looked up in surprise at the other before allowing a small, grateful smile to reach his lips. "Thanks," he responded which only caused Ratchet to nod his helm slightly in acknowledgment before guiding Sam to the back hallways.

"May I ask why you wish to see a specific sparkling?" the medic had then asked through the silence of the hallway, filling the tense, rigid air with a gentle tone. "Just wanted to make sure he's safe," Sam responded easily causing the other to raise his optic once again in confusion because most bots held little sentimental ties, protective of young ones, yes, but not personal emotions, to sparklings who were, after first being released into the world by the Allspark, left under the extensive care and protection of the medical institutions and facilities before being omitted and adopted out to qualified bots almost a vorn later.

It was an extensive procedure to gain a sparkling which resulted in full background check and multiple vorns of waiting, not to mention a long waiting list before one actually received a sparkling. "Don't get attached," the medic warned, knowing full well the painful break up it could create leading to nasty scarring of the spark, yet Sam only stared back at him calmly with a lackadaisical shrug. "I don't intend to."

Ratchet stared back as Sam, watching him carefully. Sam stared back with equal intensity before adding, "I need to remind myself what I'm fighting for, what the purpose of my existence is."

* * *

Sam had left later as the lunar cycle began. The city scape turning from the glass view of Iacon into a glowing city of lights and blurring ribbons of color that came from rushing vehicles on the sky highways that zoomed above the city streets.

Sam had seen Bumblebee again, and as much as he knew that he should break all ties from old friends, he couldn't help but relax at the sight of his old guardian, his _only_ guardian. Ratchet had asked if he wished to hold the sparkling or visit up close from the oppressing glass wall at which he stood, but Sam merely shook his helm in defiance knowing full well he would not be able to pull away.

Now he stood outside back onto the bustling city streets, blindly searching for his way back to the Iacon halls before the back alleys became dangerous, having heard rumors from other workers and interns that thieves had been stealing and removing parts from victims, snatched away in the cover of night when the rush hour had passed and the witnesses had dispersed. No, he was not afraid, or at least that's what he consistently reminded himself.

Finally, after a few minuets (or what Sam's human mind assumed to be minutes), Sam found himself back at the hall much to his undying relief as he let out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing as the adrenaline wore off.

It was then, as he turned towards the grand entrance that his spark literally dropped in fear. His optics staring widely and his body freezing in the moment of panic. Standing on the opposite side of the building was Orion Pax, talking animatedly to a tall mech of silver that glinted brightly in the artificial lights of nearby lamps. Megatron. Or was it Megatronus? No, that didn't matter because it was definitely him.

Sam immediately turned towards the shadows, hoping they wouldn't see him as he watched carefully. The two interacting as if old friends, and to Sam, nothing could have been worse.

 **AN- I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter, but I'm in a bit of a time crunch. Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it. Any reviews, suggestions, or criticism is fully welcome.**


	8. Chapter 8

Sam tilted his helm slightly, watching Orion Pax with curious optics as the other continued to fidget in a nervous manner that caused the former to huff in amusement. "Well, let it out," Sam finally said in an exasperated manner as he could practically feel the nervous bubble of excitement that oozed from the other despite Orion's well known everlasting patience.

Orion flinched slightly, giving Sam a nervous smile (really it was just a tilt of his lips), before rubbing the back of his helm in a quick manner of obvious anxiety which caused Sam himself to be on edge. After all, it wasn't often for Orion to get flustered. The usually calm bot already taking on the personality of Optimus Prime in his youth which Sam was slightly grateful for if not feeling a little regret.

The two had met up once again for the lunar cycle under the stars in their usual meeting spot. However, unusually, Orion had demanded Sam come (well more like pleaded, but it was _definitely_ an order by a superior the way Orion was talking) which had resulted in Sam nervously working for the remainder of the sol out of pure fear of what the other could possibly want to tell him. The bond between them holding no truths, and for once in his existence as Ante Finem, Orion had completely shut himself off from the other no matter how much Sam prodded.

That worried Sam to no end (damn Orion Pax).

Regardless, Sam felt no peace at finally seeing the other as Orion still exuded his natural tendency to cringe away at secrets. If Sam didn't know better, he would have called the autobots future leader an over exuberant puppy, but no, that title went to Bumblebee hands down.

After a bout of silence and one hard earned glare from Sam, Orion finally lifted his servos up in surrender and confessed in a quite tone, barely above a whisper.

"Well I was wondering …," he spoke in a hushed silence before his tone took a whole one-eighty turn. "So how has your sol been? Have you been getting enough recharge? Do you need me to-"

"Orion Pax! Shut the slag up and tell me what's wrong!" Sam yelled out angrily.

"How can I shut up and talk at the same time?"

Another hard glare from Sam caused the other to flinch and wisely stop.

Orion sighed, still fidgeting nervously before finally resolving his inner conflict and turning to Sam with steeled optics. "Ante, I was studying the history of Cybertron, and I was wondering if our current caste system is too … restricting." Sam paused for a second as his processors whirred at the sudden intake of information. Slowly, he connected the dots.

It was dangerous to say anything against the High Council, and as gentle as the words had been not to offend, they would certainly offend, create havoc, and if what Orion had said had been stated anywhere else, outside the comfort of their own friendship in the dark and quiet privacy of the Hall of Records restricted only to certain access, Orion would have been offlined. Cross that out, he would have been dismantled and then smelted for parts in the most cruel and horrid fashion. The simple knowledge that Orion had trusted him so deeply as to confess this idea, this revelation, which is enough to end him, suddenly forced Sam to reel back in shock.

But it had also explained the sudden change in Orion's alienation of himself. He had not wanted to leak to Sam any information for fear that if the council _did_ find out of his mild treason, they would barter Sam into the equation for information, which if the bond was canceled, would be useless. That stupid, idiotic, goody two shoes.

His optics shuddered as Sam stared back at Orion's gaze, unwavering, searching for that hidden resolve that made Optimus Prime, and it was there, sitting on that bench gazing at stars with Orion Pax, that he wondered is this is where Optimus Prime was born? Is this were the peace ended, calamity started, and where everything would fall.

But worse, he knew his mission was coming to an end, and he had failed. Nothing in this past has changed and nothing in the future would be altered. Yet he couldn't help but wonder, is this where he would eventually die?

No, he couldn't think about that now, that was selfish, and if Optimus had taught him anything, it was that there were lives far worth more than his own. Instead, he watched the other knowing full well that if he dissuaded Orion's advances, perhaps he could avoid the future calamity all together, yet the other side of his processor (the smarter one) warned him that regardless, Orion's sense of justice would win out and the progression of war would not falter. So instead, he turned to the other with determined optics and a firm tone that gave no room for protest.

"What are we going to do about it?"

Orion's reaction was instantaneous. "No!" he shouted out while grasping Sam's shoulders with tight servos that shook slightly in fear. Orion was never one to break rules, he enforced it, he trusted the government, and now that he was feeling the slightest sense of doubt in those who lead, those who he knew he should not question, he acknowledged he was falling into treason, and the last thing he wanted was to drag Sam into the mess. But Sam's optics remained alight with unwavering conviction.

"Don't be ridiculous Orion. We're in this together."

Orion shook his head. "Ante, don't you understand? I could be offlined, you too. I just needed your opinion, not your sacrifice."

Sam stared back at the other, a frown marring his face before he spoke bitterly in a quiet soft voice of remorse as he knew encouraging Orion would only seal their fates, but it must be done. "A government that rules must rule through the consent of the governed, to protect those that abide by their laws, and to defend the innocent. That is the power of our Council, and thus it is our power, as the governed, to choose our rulers, decide what matters to us must now matter to them, and if our protection, our dreams, are ever compromised, it is our power to stop them, to make them understand and to preserve the society that benefits all."

Thank goodness for the U.S. history courses that Sam had reluctantly taken during his high school years, and to believe there was actually a use for all that babbling from that old snoot of a teacher. Huh, he learned something new every day, and deep within his mind, Sam thanked John Locke too, but Orion seemed less than convinced.

The other's optics continued to stare forlornly at the shined tiles, gleaming brightly despite the insignificant light of the stars. His body radiating hesitance and fear, the bond still closed off. Finally, having enough, Sam reached up (he grudgingly admitted he was short) and grabbed the back of Orion's helm, forcing the other to face him before dragging the other downward so their optics met face to face.

"Orion Pax," he said calmly in a steely tone of authority that he had never once used as a human, somewhat reminiscent of his mother's own commanding voice. "The future is _always_ worth fighting for. _Never_ forget that."

Orion looked back at him with equally determined and pained eyes. The two of them together bearing the weight of the past (memories which had burrowed through Sam's heart) and the future (a weight that trudged within Orion's very shadow). "There is someone I would like you to meet," Orion spoke softly, the weight of his words settling in Sam's processor as he knew, hew knew all too well exactly who the other referred to.

That was the day Ante Finem met Megatron. It was not in a battle, nor was it with a gun pointed directly at his face with the intent of splattering his remains across the pavement, no, it was in the stormy silence of the Iacon halls with Orion Pax at his side and a war, unknowingly, brewing between them.

"Megatron, this is Ante Finem. He helps me at the Iacon halls and works as an archivist there (Sam didn't correct Orion), and Ante, this is Megatron. He is a gladiator in Kaon, although he used to work as a miner in the D district, he came here after I contacted him." Sam couldn't help but quirk his optic at the somewhat bizarre introduction. Then again, how else is one introduced to the future destroyer of the universe? (No, Sam couldn't wrap his helm around that.)

Instead of puzzling over the consequences, Sam reached his hand out in greeting. "It's nice to meet you, Megatron." he said, feeling the strangeness of saying the other's name with no heat or anger behind his words; it was odd at the least. Megatron, however, barely seemed to notice as he shook servos with Sam and nodded his helm in greeting (jerk). The two stared with narrowed, weary optics, sizing each other up, before Orion jumped between them, far to eager to keep the peace.

"Megatron, I called you here to ask about your opinion about prioritizing a new caste system," Orion spoke in a reprimanding tone filled with warning and disapproval. "not to fight with Ante." With this warning, Orion had stepped boldly in between the two, even if no real fight had occurred, and stood protectively over the smaller bot that he had come to know as a brother.

Sam had reeled back in shock. Surprised that Orion was protecting him and humbled (even if he could clearly take care of himself), but also stunned by the sudden realization that Orion Pax did not fully trust Megatron, and somehow, that brought Sam great relief.

Megatron reluctantly turned away before jumping into the true purpose of his visit. "Very well, let us speak business. I have decided that the best course of action is to persuade the High Council of our ideals, a new era with a new beginning," he spoke calmly, pacing slightly around the large room with servos crossed, resting behind his back in a peaceful manner (it puzzled Sam, but he didn't dare speak up) while Orion relaxed slightly before nodding his helm in understanding, allowing the other to continue.

"The council is clearly corrupt, speaking out alone will change nothing. Only through actions can they see, blinded by their own stupidity, deafened by their stubbornness, and crippled by their own self-indulged superiority. If we want to make a change, we must show them," Megatron said in a clear voice hidden with a sudden passion and fervor, but Sam only felt fear from Megatron's speech as he turned to Orion, pleading for the other to dissuade Megatron, to warn him of his own wrongdoings. But he was met with nothing as Orion merely nodded his head in agreement with the other, twisting Sam's spark with fear for the showing of actions, especially in the hands of one such as Megatron, would almost certainly lead to violence, and in a time where peace teetered so delicately on a single thread, that was the last thing Cybertron needed.

Through the spark bond, Sam could feel the slightest hint of approval.

 **AN- I feel as if this chapter is really fast paced as opposed to previous chapters, but I really want to move on with the story and get to the major points of the plot. I'm thinking of one more chapter before moving to a time skip, but I'm somewhat hesitant. If you have suggestions, I'd love to hear them, also thank you for reading, and thanks to all who have reviewed.**


	9. Chapter 9

His legs were shaking, the strain of over exertion coursing through his lines and spreading like poison through his aching cables and wiring, the nerves jolting on fumes. But he had to move. He willed his body, forcing it to take another step forward before the pain spiked again, and Sam was forced to grab a window ledge to steady himself.

Flinching, Sam's servos shook slightly as he tried to get back up, but the joints refused to move, and his body refused to listen. Where was that idiot Orion Pax who always came at the wrong time and never came at the right? Dang it.

"Hey little bot. You need help?" a voice echoed out softly through the quiet halls leading Sam to look up in surprise. Sam's optics lit with recognition, staring back at the form of Arcee. Bright pink metallic paint, silver joints, and a single wheel that balanced precariously against the axle yet somehow was perfectly balanced.

"Arc-," Sam exclaimed in surprise, but quickly slammed his mouth shut at the realization that he had yet to meet her, instead opting to stutter back a response. "I'm fine, thanks." He then struggled to stand, at least appear taller in some sense but found even that to be impossible.

Arcee merely rolled her optics in amusement before grabbing Sam's left servo and hauling him upward with little effort. She then raised the ridge of her optic when Sam mumbled out a quiet thanks causing her small smirk to grow into a full blown grin.

"I'm not a certified medic; however, I did pick up some intel over my years in Crystal City. Want some help?" she asked while placing her servo on her hip before leaning slightly on her single wheel in one elegant movement. "No, I think I'll take my chances," Sam replied, already knowing fully well that there was nothing to find but his own decaying circuits in a young body. Humans are quick to die compared to a Cybertronian, and Ante Finem was no different than his human counterpart.

Trying to change the topic before Arcee forwent his consent, Sam tried to ignore the pain in his wiring before speaking questioningly, "You hail from Crystal City?" Arcee narrowed her optics, understanding what Sam was doing but nonetheless, playing along. "No, I was merely studying there."

Sam nodded his head in understanding, only half listening to the other. Crystal City was made of delicately spindled glass created by the powerful minds of robotic tech. The city most known for its complicated constructed buildings and floating paths that spiraled around the city's major buildings. But most importantly, the city was highly recognized and respected for the scientific research it produced in, and along with Praxus, became one of Cybertron's leading cities in the beginning of the Golden Age.

Sam had never seen the city himself, but he had heard rumors of its dazzling skylights and the great achievements of such students alone who held the skill and honor to be designated into the teaching programs offered. It was no small feat, yet Arcee didn't comment further as she hauled Sam upward, and much to Sam's surprise, found they were the same height (because really Sam didn't need to bruise his ego anymore than it already was).

"The name's Arcee," she said while reaching her hand out in greeting once Sam was back on his stabilizing servos (sorta) before he too replied with his name and a single, curt handshake. "What brings you here?" Sam asked as the other continued to swirl around the vacant halls, turning her helm back and forth in fascination at the displayed artifacts and documents in a childish awe.

Arcee then hesitated at his voice, turning her helm to stare back at Sam for a moment, searching his optics for something before deeming that he was indeed trustworthy and confiding in her supposed mission. "I'm working through an internship as an intelligence agent for the Armed Department of Security after we received rumors that a riot would be taking place in the Iacon city square. I'm here to investigate with my mentor on matters and to stop any unwanted mayhem and misconduct if necessary. However, everything has been quiet lately, and we believe nothing will start until the later evening of this cycle hence why I am currently soaking up as much history here in the Hall of Records." Sam couldn't help but snicker at the name internally (So did that make the acronym ADS? No his human sense of humor was definitely _not_ helping.).

She watched for his reaction, and Sam fought to keep his face neutral as he felt a slight sense of fear trickle to the pit of his chasis. That couldn't be right, surely the rumors were false because Sam had distinctly remembered Megatron telling both him and Orion that there would merely be a passing of ballots and a spread of optimism towards improvement. Protesting was not part of the plan.

"I'm afraid that's news to me," Sam said to Arcee as the other merely shrugged her shoulders, seeming not too bothered by his lack of knowledge and more distracted by a hanging hologram on one end of the hall, clearly absorbing as much information as possible in her fanatic interest in learning. Sam wordlessly followed, his legs slowly kicking back into movement and the ache slowly receding to the point that Sam could ignore it, or at least push it to the back of his processor.

Sam hesitated, pondering over this new information with worry. It _was_ just a rumor, surely Megatron wouldn't try to exert power _now_. Yet if Sam knew Megatron over his many years as a human, he knew the other was one for affirmative action and worse, surprises. Still, Sam could not leap into action and attempt to stop the other based on that knowledge alone. If it really was just a rumor than there was no reason to confront Megatron and cause a deeper rift than what already existed between them. Perhaps if Sam could gain his trust than he could avoid the oncoming crisis, but what if it was true? Sam trusted Arcee and if the law enforcers were here on the basis of one such rumor, than it was clearly not just a rumor.

Letting out a resigned sigh of frustration and nervous energy, Sam waved goodbye to Arcee (not that she really noticed) before searching the hallways for the one enemy he always feared.

Sam found Megatron standing among the glass statues of former Primes. A large domed room with glass roofing tinged and webbed with platinum, representing beauty and power, and wide columns that connected the webbed wrought metal in a swirling intricate haze. The large statues of the primes, littered every inch with delicate details, towering over all who entered, bowing their heads against the roof with the humble appearance of gods.

Sam didn't bother to hide his presence, and Megatron didn't bother to turn at the sound of his echoing steps. "Megatron, stop what you're doing."

"Which part? The standing or the breathing?"

"Cut the chase, I know what you plan on doing, and I'm warning you now that this will succeed in nothing," Sam said firmly, trying, pleading for the other to understand and to somehow sway, but Megatron seemed oblivious to his advances. "On the contrary, it will succeed in everything. Those high and mighty councilors are too protected, coddled in their own false sense of security and wealth that they have become blind to the world's problems."

Sam frowned slightly, understanding what Megatron spoke of, knew where he was coming from, but also disagreeing, "There is another way. If only we speak-"

"Talking to them will bring absolutely nothing! Do you honestly think you can simply march in and ask them to listen?! They can not see what is clearly in front of them, so let us show them the true meaning of fear, only then will they listen to our cause. Though I admit I'm a little surprised that your not asking for a more deliberate approach," Megatron said calmly, voice echoing dully in the large room of the primes, his scornful face, now turned, glaring at Sam with burning passion, hidden hate, and even a slight hint of curiosity.

At Sam's confused look, he elaborated, leaning in close until his breath ghosted across Sam's face. "Surely someone of your status must understand the constant fear. I know all to well your secret. You and your esteemed medic may keep it from Orion, but I know, and I can tell the world. Once the Council knows that you're on the verge of offlining, they will hunt you down, and the last vorns of your life will be spent in a smelting pit. After all what use is one too ill and weak to work? By then, the only use for you is your body parts slowly taken from you one by one as you die gradually and painfully."

Sam said nothing. Megatron merely watching him with narrowed optics. His eyes burned with passion, jaw clenched in defiance, and large metallic body towering over Sam's smaller frame.

" _That_ is the government you are protecting."

Turning one last glare at the other, Megatron then left, walking away with only the dull resonating sound of his footsteps vibrating through the empty corridors, anger surrounding him in waves as he left Sam to stand among the deceased primes.

000

Sam searched the hallways, his servos grabbing onto any solid ledges for support for reassurance in case he stumbled, optics searching wildly for Orion Pax, his processor still slightly shaken by the realization that there would be no saving Megatron from his path of destruction. But his only worry now was to quickly find Orion Pax before he was too late. Feeling for the other through his bond, Sam could decipher that Orion was still located somewhere within the Iacon halls, yet he was still unskilled at physically finding the other's key signature. Left with no choice, he searched for the other the old fashioned way.

"Arcee, have you seen Orion?" Sam asked upon seeing the femme gliding across the hallways effortlessly, staring back and forth among the hallway sides. She then stopped, turning to stare at Sam with a slight turn of her optics in a confused gaze. "Orion?" she asked. Sam mentally smacked his helm in frustration, of course they haven't met yet.

"Umm, he's tall, red and blue, and umm …" Sam hesitated in confusion because he had never tried to describe a bot before much less one he had seen everyday for practically his whole life. Orion's face had become so normal to him that the idea of describing the other was near impossible, but Arcee seemed to understand as she let out a genuine, loud laugh of amusement. "Sorry, still don't know who you're talking about, but I haven't seen anyone through the halls for a while now, it's surprisingly quiet here for such a famous, monumental building."

Arcee then paused, seeing Sam's worried expression and disappointment, she let out a heavy sigh as if consoling a sparkling. "Have you tried to give him an IM?" she asked but was surprised to see Sam shake his helm in disappointment, yet Sam couldn't tell her that his processor was incapable of such forms of communication due to his own human drawbacks. "You are both connected through a bond, right? Just find him through that."

Sam nodded his head, musing to himself in the silence with only Arcee's wheeled peg making a soft whirring noise as she glided around. He had never contacted anyone through any means of connections, yet then again, he had never tried. Forcing his mind to comply, and praying that of all the times to succeed, now was that time, Sam allowed his optics to close in the single moment of peace. Searching wildly for Orion through their bond, the connection whirred to life on Sam's end. His first attempt was rewarded.

Sam's optics lit up as he yelled out in excitement,"Thanks Arcee!" before running past the other towards the lower main exit just as Arcee turned around in surprise, a slight "your welcome?" in response. Jumping the last few steps of the stairwell, despite his processor's warning, Sam quickly bolted through the empty halls, only a few clerks and stationed workers littered throughout to witness his bizarre dash towards the front entrance.

He then heaved out a sigh of relief upon recognizing the familiar figure of Orion Pax, the other opening the door, clearly intending to leave and meet up with Megatron at the agreed time. "Wait!" Sam shouted before trying to skid to a halt but instead founding himself sliding and, in his panic for a foothold, slammed against the very door Orion tried to open. Orion's face was priceless (if only Sam could see it) as he jerked his servo back in shock.

"Ante! Are you okay?" Orion cried out in horror before helping Sam up although the other barely noticed as his helm spun from the sudden wave of dizziness. The taller bot could only watch in horror as Sam buckled in his arms before mumbling something that sounded like an "okay" but was so muffled that Orion's processor whirred in confusion.

Sam took a final, firm shake of his helm as the dizziness slowly dispersed, but before Orion could begin questioning the other, Sam immediately shouted out, "You can't go!"

Orion blinked in confusion, his helm tilted slightly to the side in confusion which briefly reminded Sam of Mojo. "I don't quite understand," he replied, his optics still searching the other for injuries. Sam frowned, unsure of how to explain it before making a split second decision and grabbing the other's servo. Orion had no time to voice out his surprise when he was promptly dragged up the elevator and across the hall. The two then ran (in Orion's case dragged) to the second floor, only stopping when Sam collapsed against an outer window, his breathe coming out in ragged puffs. "Ante? What's wrong?" Orion asked, his voice filled with tense worry as he leaned towards his smaller companion, scanning for any abnormalities yet only found Sam's systems to be overheated.

"You can't go," Sam panted out. "You can't."

"What? Why?" Orion asked in pure befuddlement before the sounds of screaming and firing rung through the streets. The loud noises echoing, booming through the thick metal walls and into the hallways. Orion tore his optics away from Sam and looked out the window, staring in horrified wonderment and shock as the massive crowd below turned violent. Security screaming orders across the riot, shooting fire at anything that moved, and ricocheting bullets into the air as warning shots. Orion then looked back down at Sam who, still breathing heavily, staring back, his optics glowing with knowledge far beyond his vorns.

"How did you meet Megatron?"

 **AN- I haven't been satisfied with these past few chapters mostly because I don't have the time to fully edit and look over my work. For that I apologize and I may not be able to post for a while, depending on how much free time I get. But thanks for reading, and you can't imagine how happy I was to receive all the reviews.**


	10. Chapter 10

It was dark, the silence etching quietly across the halls, and though Sam loathed to admit it, he had come to acknowledge those halls as home. He recognized the tiled flooring and the sheen that swirled along the glass windows as the sun peaked each sol. He knew every detail of every hour, of every vorn of that building from the inside out, even more so than the house he had grown up in, his own tiny dorm room, and the military base at which he resided in after the first hints of war sprung up and Sam no longer had a home to return to.

He feared the knowledge that he had now lived on Cybertron longer than he had on Earth.

Silence made Sam's human mind think even as the mind of Ante Finem died down into a stony silence, and Sam embraced those moments when his humanity seemed to win out over the robotic mechanics that now made up his body.

Indeed, he was now thinking, mulling over the facts that he had just bartered.

Orion Pax had admitted to many wrongdoings and, despite Sam's reassurance, remained hesitant to confide in the other. The taller mech had, at one point beyond Sam's knowledge, snuck into one of the main computer systems that was still under reconstruction (Teletraan was it?) after having discovered a new signal that he had suspiciously found under heavy lock and subscription, and after decoding the message, had come across Megatron, a mind so deep and, at the time, wise had completely altered Orion's vision of the government. The two had then conversed illegally using the new computer to keep under the radar of the Council due to the new techs lack of productivity and thus currently being shut down for later use. Their treason a secret to the world. A secret held between them.

But Sam now knew, and the knowledge itself crippled him.

The revelation had made Sam pause and reconsider how much of Orion Pax he really knew.

Orion remained silent, servos wrung silently as he watched Sam nervously before flitting away. Optics averting the other and watching the heavy stillness of the empty halls. Their usual place in the dark of night because it had become their norm, a distant comfort that remained between them despite all the secrets that buried its way between their bond.

Sam wanted to berate Orion for being so trusting, yet the other already seemed to have realized the false nature of Megatron, the brutality of others. The sound of sirens still wailing through the lunar cycle despite the crowd having long been dispersed. The security having rounded the group in a grotesque manner of violence displayed for the whole world to see. Sam had no doubt it was Megatron's choosing, his will to show Cybertron the truths of the government that bound their freedoms and their future. But regardless, it was a truly despicable way of showing it.

"I apologize," Orion spoke softly as if the brutality of the day had drained his voice from within. Sam said nothing for he understood. He held secrets that weighed upon the spark in a tangible, solidified feeling that despite its burden was impossible to remove, mentally encrypted upon the mind. Instead of answering, Sam merely gave a slight shrug before asking, "Why?"

But it was a foolish question because he knew why, and Orion merely reopened the connection through their bond for Sam to understand. It was the need for freedom, the need for justice, peace, and every other righteous embodiment that made Orion Pax him. It was the single quest to help lead by misjudgment. "You fool," Sam whispered harshly though the tone was filled with little hate or disappointment.

Regardless, Orion flinched. "I apologize," he repeated much to Sam's annoyance causing Sam to slowly get up from his comfortable position on the bench, scoot closer to the other, before smacking Orion clear across the back of his helm with such surprising force that the taller bot had been jerked downward through the motion. Orion's optics lighted in startled amazement at the sheer strength behind Sam's attack though the pain was little more than a slight ache. (Sam would later grudgingly admit that he should have hit Orion harder.)

"Well, now you know," Sam continued despite Orion's shocked face staring back at him in amazement and perhaps a slight bit of amusement. "This is why you fight."

Orion's face then morphed into confusion. "Fight? That riot … it was a massacre! How could fighting possibly solve anything?" he spoke in startled horror confined within the presence of his voice as he struggled for words to describe his dismay. His voice so thick and saturated with utter befuddlement that Sam could literally feel the intensity of the other's words as if they were tangible, somehow floating between the two in the thick silence of the atmosphere. Orion was now standing in his shock, looking down at his companion which caused Sam to also stand in some odd habit to compensate for the massive height difference.

And suddenly Sam was livid.

"Orion Pax, you listen to me. You fight for dreams, for the innocent, for justice, for the sheer need of violence that seems to solve things better than words. You fight out of love, out of hate, misery, and for the mystery of fates. You fight for the truth, for the future, for the world, for the whole damn universe, you fight to protect. So never tell me that fighting doesn't solve anything!"

Sam had to bite his lower lip, an action that seemed oddly human, to prevent from crying out in anger and to prevent himself from spewing out any more words of frustration at the other because it was clearly not Orion's fault. Orion had yet to know that Sam's life was nothing but fighting. That was the meaning of his existence, it was the meaning of Bumblebee's life too as the other, born into the heart of war, knew nothing else but the experience of killing. It was Will's job that he took with pride, to fight and protect his wife and daughter whom Sam never got to meet as they too succumbed to death well before their time. It was Epps's glory that proved the man's heart of solid gold. Sam's family (which was filled with soldiers, bots, and every friend who ever helped him in the heat of battle) lived in war, met because of it, and died for a purpose, a reason. They fought to live.

"It's true, fighting is violence in its purest form, but sometimes its your only option," Sam vented angrily, the bitter hate of memory consuming him. "Today, when you watched that riot, if there was ever a sliver of doubt, then know _that_ is your reason to fight. Fight for a future that you can look upon with no doubts, no hesitations, only then is there no more reason to fight."

Sam knew it was unfair to ask this of Orion, to ask it of anyone. He alone knew that pain greater than any other. The need to save the universe, having the weight of the whole world bare upon one's shoulders, and to be the only one to remember, to know, was the worst. It was a burden Sam never wanted to share with anyone. Not even those government idiots with their fancy badges and briefs, though Sam had no doubt that they would screw up the world splendidly. But Orion did not deserve that weight, the paranoia, the fear, the pain, the loss, and worse, knowing that the lives of those you loved sat literally in the palm of your hand. Though Opitmus Prime had a large servo that was filled with thousand of sparks and lives in his mere pinky alone, millions more standing delicately in his palm.

Yet, it was fate that designed their cruel story and Sam was left with no choice but to watch and whisper out a meager apology.

He awaited with a bated breath for Orion's rebuttal, his anger, because Sam knew the bot's spark was laced with peace and a sense of romanticized duty that outweighed the embellishments of war, yet the rebuttal never came. Instead it was doubt that met Sam's rambling.

"What future is there to create?" Orion asked quietly in the hushed silence of the hall. His helm turned downward and suddenly he appeared very small and timid. "What if one side is no better than the other?"

Sam had paused in confusion before being struck with realization. He knew little of Opitmus Prime's past, but he knew Orion. Orion Pax had consulted his findings with one who held similar beliefs and Megatron had taken full advantage of Orion's naivety to warp his mind into what was perceived as right and wrong.

Orion had been so confident, so delusional and swayed by Megatron's ways, yet now here he was, once again struggling on his own because the truth had spilled. The path that had once seemed so obviously bright was now clouded with doubt, and the other path, the one that pooled with sins seemed, now, even worse.

Sam then spoke in patronizing amusement. "Then carve your own path," he said confidently as if it was obvious (though really it was). Yet, sometimes Sam forgot that Orion, like all members of Cybertron, were trained from the moment of their creation to pertain a bee-like devotion towards the government with undoubted loyalty and were thus unused to the idea of thinking for themselves.

"If there isn't an obvious answer that you can invest your futures in, then make one."

Orion watched Sam carefully, optics curious yet shrouded with doubt and fear. "And if I were to fail this?"

"Don't worry, I'll be there to give you a second chance, however many times it takes," (just don't make it a habit) Sam spoke confidently because it was true, no matter how much Sam wished it wasn't.

Orion nodded his head slightly, yet his optics remained downcast and his servos continued to shake nervously. The fear coursing through his systems somehow finding its way across the bond where Sam tried his best to ward off the apprehension.

Deciding the other needed an added booster, Sam reached up to grab Orion's helm (really he did this more times than he would have thought necessary) before forcing the said bot to look at him directly.

"Orion Pax, you will always have my support, even if the world hated you and the universe became your enemy, I will still stand right here." Because in the end, all the help Orion had given Sam could never be repaid. Not for a million Earth years, not for a thousand Cybertronian vorns, not even for an eternity of lifetimes.

Orion's expression changed from one of relief to a renewed hope that alleviated Sam's own pain. That was until Orion's face once again morphed into that of deep consideration, a pondering that Sam had come to recognize as some further insight and wisdom beyond his knowledge.

"What about Megatron?" Orion asked, clear hope in his voice that if he was able to see the errors of Megatron's way then surely Megatron himself would also understand, yet Sam's grave expression dashed his hopes before it could even begin.

For a sheer nano-second, Sam had thought back to his conversation with the mentioned bot, one last failed attempt at saving Cybertron, before speaking in a hushed tone, "I fear it is too late to save him."


	11. Chapter 11

Sam turned to Alpha Trion, watching as the older bot moved seamlessly across the room in elegance that Sam had forgotten since his new body. There were little times of silence on Cybertron as Sam had discovered when being accompanied by the constant buzz of machines, the quick clicks of IM's, and the occasional sound of a moving metallic body (usually coming from Sam's own clumsiness), but now was one of those moments of content serenity.

However, Sam's own processor was racked with fear, and he felt himself once again falling into depression from the constant feeling. Something was going to happen. Something big, and Sam wasn't sure if this was the path he was supposed to lead Orion Pax, or worse, if he was capable of stopping it if it wasn't.

What would he do then if he failed his mission? What if everything returned back to the way it was in the future from which Sam originated? The fear plagued him which was why he was now leaning against the upper railing of the second floor that peaked at the main library below. Trion working diligently, writing some code of some sort that Sam's Cybertronic processor could only decipher so much, though he reluctantly admitted that it reminded him somewhat of the Allspark's markings. The glowing blue lines haunting Sam's memory.

It was odd, yet the older bot's presence and wisdom seemed to comfort Sam leaving the latter to seek out Trion's presence from time to time. Now being one such time.

"Something troubles you," Trion spoke calmly, not looking up from his transcript.

Sam stared at the other before allowing a rue smile slip across his face. "Perhaps," he whispered quietly before leaning his helm against his arms, half resting against the silver railing. Worrying about what was to come because, really, there was nothing else for him to do.

The Council was desperate. The growing animosity and the sudden call for action swaying the citizens in a deep piranha like frenzy to kill. Or perhaps kill was too harsh.

Fights had broken out onto the streets and the intent to maim was clear among the growing hatred. But the government could do nothing, for the more order and peace they tried to implement, the more force they were met with and the growing hatred burned into an inferno that promised destruction.

Yes, the Council was desperate for change, to reorganize what they had lost, and to keep what yet remained which was why Orion Pax was invited to speak before the High Council along with Megatron in an effort to listen to the people. Sam knew this would happen, yet he also knew that somewhere along the line, there would be a mistake. Something big and destructive that would forever change the history of Cybertron from peace to destruction, and he had yet to know what it was.

The war had finally come at its climax, and depending on what the High Council did, Cybertron would be drowning in their own hate and call for retribution. That was depending on Sam's own actions. If he were to succeed, in some twisted sense of the word because Sam no longer knew if he could with war looming overhead, or failed.

Finally, Sam shook his helm determinedly. He needed another plan, just in case. Some fail proof mechanism that would occur in case he did fail, _when_ he fails. Sam clenched his servos on the railing before straightening his back and staring directly at Trion below. The said bot, as if sensing the sudden change, turned to look up at him, glowing, inquisitive, blue optics staring back.

It was now or never. The one bot that had come to understand Sam, to know what he had been through. The only one he could trust to tell.

Trion had never come to know Sam's real name, he had never questioned the other bot despite the obvious secrets between them. He had been nothing but kind to Sam, and now Sam was willing to return the favor. Yet there was still some doubt that plagued his mind, a single voice of a devil whispering through his ear, warning him that if he did this he would seal his fate, and a future of possibilities would once again disappear. Sam would forever be dragged into a war that begun centuries before he ever took his first breath, but he knew that in the future, if it ever came down to one last final stand, it was his duty to see it to the end and make sure he succeeded, even if it killed him.

"There is a young galaxy, light-years away, that is slowly forming as we speak. There is a planet in that galaxy that will later become known as Earth. Inhabiting it is small, organic creatures known as humans. One day Earth will come to your attention, and when it does, find a boy named Samuel James Witwicky."

The words felt heavy. They weighed upon him in some unspoken, tangible way. It hurt more than Sam thought it would for then and there, the Sam Witwicky of the future that Sam had yet to ever meet or experience, would never get a normal life. No, instead he would step into a car that would drag him through Cybertron's war before destroying Earth in its conquest. But Sam owed it to them if ever he failed his task now. Hopefully the war would end before ever reaching Earth, perhaps Earth would never come to the Cybertronian's radar and Sam would remain safe as a slightly average kid (he liked to think himself above average), never having to experience true fear and terror, the scent of blood, or the sound one made when they died. Perhaps if he ended it now, he could save them all.

But Sam knew he could not. It was too late, something had happened beyond Sam's ability to fix, and this would be his last gift to the planet for when it all came crashing down.

Trion seemed to understand. His optics staring intently at Sam, searching through his spark before nodding his head slowly as if knowing that the one little piece of information Sam had given to him was his death sentence.

The two then descended into silence. Sam, eager for some change of tone, then asked Trion if the older bot would be accompanying the small group to Iacon. The said mech merely smiling mysteriously before bemusedly declining and stating broadly, "I do not bide well with Sentinel Prime". Sam was left with a questioning tilt of his helm but refused to ask for further emphasis.

But that would be the last time Sam ever saw Trion; it would be the last time they ever spoke to each other in this lifetime, and perhaps if Sam had known, he would have asked.

 **AN- So I don't know when I'll be able to update this story seeing as life has caught up with me but please enjoy, and I apologize for it being so short.**


	12. Chapter 12

How long had it been? Human centuries, human lifetimes, or perhaps even a whole human civilization worth of history gone by right before Sam's optics. Sam did not know, but he did ponder. He wondered what would have happened had he remained human. Would he have grown old, married, had children, and through the twilight of his years find the joy of being human before slipping away through time?

No. Sam shook his helm in frustration, ridding himself of such thoughts before turning his optics to, as a distraction, watch the glowing lines of circuitry that outlined the contour edges of Iacon. Today was the day.

Today was the day that would change it all.

Sam watched, feeling the nervous buzz of Orion's EM field against his own. A gentle torrent of ecstatic energy that briefly reminded Sam of a hyper child drowning in sugar. The mental image would have been amusing if Orion's own tension and fears were not felt by Sam as well.

Yet, Sam hid this when he felt the recognizable yet hesitant touch of Orion asking for permission across their bond, and, with Sam's permission, found themselves swaddled by the comfort of their own mind. It was a soothing touch, bonded across their processors and a single reminder that the other was _there_. That single thought alone giving them peace.

They were asked to represent the growing community of rebels that had steadily poured across the outlets of the grid. The outrage at the High Council's response at dealing with previous protestors rebounding into a heated flare of anger that washed its way across the community.

Sam worried, he really did, but right now, Orion Pax and Megatron, the two semi-leaders that understood the recent fad had been asked to speak before the council. For once, the council promised to _listen_.

Sam was nervous, but it wasn't him going in there; it was Orion, and Sam was determined to reassure the other. The two now embarked on the journey across the fast paced highways of the mid range of the city. Towering ceilings of intricate metal and glass that flashed on occasion across Sam's processor in a haze of bright light. But none was more grand than the Great Dome.

A golden hued, half egg-shaped dome that stuck out against the bleached shades of white and gray. The dome's structure rounded at the sides before peaking at the top met with an intricate web of golden vines binding the upper glass panels into a permanent shell.

It was hard to miss such structure, and Sam could immediately feel the strong buzz of a protective force field through his own EM field the second his stabilizing servos touched the path of the center city. It tickled at the exterior of his processor and remained a warning presence to all who dared approach Iacon's greatest treasure.

The Great Dome not only the basis of the High Council but the shield of the celestial spires. The literal representation of the central city of Iacon and perhaps Cybertron's most lustrous creation that imbued power. Sam was nervous, fearful, and silently praying that he didn't fall into stasis lock and collapse into an utter heap of stupidity on the ground. (Sam visibly flinched at the horror.) But here it was. Something that only humans could dream to create and something only Cybertron has ever achieved.

The group, Megatron, Orion Pax, Sam, and a few other zealous rebels included, were ushered into multiple tunnels that scanned the radius every few nanoseconds. A slight humming exuding from the interior, one of only four entrances into the dome, which guarded its secrets fiercely. Sam could feel the probing scans and the sudden sense of exposure but remained undeterred (while denying it had anything to do with appearing weak in Megatron's presence) as the group, surrounded by guards and the echo of their steps, reached the gilded gates of the second entrance.

It was beautiful, breathtaking, utterly inspiring, and it pained Sam. For every step he took towards the High Council that inhabited the top of the celestial spires, the closer and closer he got to the undeniable future that was his past.

It was faint, but the closer Sam got to the spires that soared upward, the stronger and more persistent the buzzing in the back of his processor's became. It took only a nanosecond for Sam to notice it and another for him to identify it.

The Allspark.

For its own protection the Allspark is transported across Cybertron on a need to know basis. It's whereabouts never advertised and few have actually ever set their optics on the object but Sam could feel its presence within Iacon, located in one of the spiraled tiers in the Iacon dome. It was here, and it was warning Sam. The bitterness he felt over the Allspark, withered over the ages, suddenly returned leaving bile to rise up within his sensors as the Allspark continued to yell at him, blaring its own fear into Sam's mind. He ignored it.

His servos clenched, optics set forward, and his mouth set into a permanent frown, Sam refused to listen and after a while, the Allspark merely stopped trying, dimming down into the background humming that was the rest of Cybertron.

The group continued forward, surrounded by guards in case of an outbreak, yet Sam held suspicions that it was merely a ruse. A guise under the pretense that they were being protected. Regardless, he said nothing.

The group then stopped at one massive spire that pierced the sky in its glory.

A huge tower with paths that circled the main body ran across the entire structure. A single dome placed at the top made of bullet-proof glass which hosted the High Council on meetings and special occasions. The base of the tower surrounded by reinforcements of metal structures and guards, plenty of guards strewn outside and inside the dome.

The group was guided towards the Council Chambers but Sam, and the other rebels, were barred by their guards holding long staffs with pronged ends. The buzz of electricity threatening Sam's processor with power that could short circuit and force a bot into stasis lock. Sam immediately back away half from surprise and half from fear (and no, he did not flinch) as one staff came dangerously close to his chasis.

"The council only wishes to speak with the instigators," their guide spoke in a monotone voice that dully reminded Sam of his math teacher's slow drawl that could put a grown man to sleep (Sam would know), but it was the way the fem bot said instigators with scorn and contempt with the brutality of saying a curse word that caused Sam to glare at her bitterly.

Orion Pax glanced at Sam nervously as Sam merely nodded his helm in reassurance as Megatron walked forward, persistent on ignoring Sam's presence, and urging the guide onward.

Sam was intent on watching them leave, that was the plan, that was what he had planned on doing. But he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to Orion Pax one last time. His servo's moving before his processor could block the action and his voice already speaking for him before he had realized his mouth had even moved.

"Good bye, Orion Pax," Sam said softly, gripping the others servo tightly.

Orion had immediately turned around to give Sam a reassuring smile. "What do you mean? It will take a few hours, but I'll be back by the next cycle, I promise."

But he did not come back. The next time Sam would see him, the two would be from completely different worlds. One that would become the savior of the future, and the other who had failed to save the past. There would be no more Orion Pax and Ante Finem, there never really was them. It would just be Optimus Prime and Sam.

Sam reminded himself that this is what he had been waiting for. After this is when the true battle would begin, when Sam would be able put to action what he could not in the past. Yet there was loss too for the time spent with Orion Pax would be forgotten by Optimus Prime and the bot he once knew would be gone.

Instead of saying 'I promise' back, Sam merely shook his helm."I'll treasure this."

Orion opened his mouth, a questioning look upon his face, but before he could ask, the taller bot was ushered away, only allowed one last glance at Sam in a surprised gaze. Sam said nothing, merely watching as the staffs continued to hold him back.

For a brief moment, Sam hated himself. He hated himself for not being able to help, he hated himself for his weakness, but worse, he hated that he had allowed himself to care for one that he had known from the very beginning would leave him. He hated how he couldn't stop himself from caring, that he couldn't just sit by and let everything happen despite already _knowing_.

Curse his human heart.

 **AN- So in the next chapter there should be a brief time skip between now and then. This chapter was supposed to show Sam's somewhat conflicted feelings where as in the past he disliked Orion Pax because he knew Optimus Prime, but now he has come to know Orion and once again feels the loss of losing a friend. At least that is what I was trying to convey. Err ... I suck at feelings. But thank you all for your patience in my long updates and thank you so much for reading. It always brightens my day!**


	13. Chapter 13

He was told he was special, he was important. It was something he was reminded of and it was something he had yet to understand. Special. Important. The words just rolled through his processor and resonated dully through his mind. How was he special? Why was he important?

Optimus had once asked why such a powerful position had befallen upon him but the response he received was a mere video clipping of him. Or at least he was told it was him because the bot he saw on the video, a slightly smaller mech appeasing to the council on the efforts of a rebel group, did not _feel_ like him. He couldn't recognize that bot anymore than he could recognize himself now.

Something had seemed off in that video clipping and Optimus could still remember the countless times he pressed repeat over and over and over again until every grain and edge of the video was melted into his processor permanently. Optimus had been told that he had been called for greatness, destined to become the new prime after his predecessor Sentinel Prime for he had moved the council through his speech. The speech in the video, the one that Optimus didn't remember or even _understand_.

Indeed, Optimus Prime was special and by far important as the next heir to the matrix, but he couldn't remember why. Suddenly all those words held no meaning because Optimus didn't deserve the praise when he couldn't even remember how he had done them or why. What purpose was he striving for? Optimus desperately wanted to know because any purpose he had then was gone now.

There was also the nagging feeling, some bond destroyed and shredded, that linked Optimus to someone he had once loved. But he couldn't salvage the bond anymore than he could recognize who it belonged to.

He had once asked Sentinel what had happened to the bot he had clearly connected so deeply with, but the older bot had merely scoffed before angrily berating Optimus that he was a leader now and such mundane bonds were a sign of weakness that he should avoid as strongly as one ran from death. So Optimus banished such thoughts, but he never forget and most certainly never let go.

Sentinel was busy. Struck by the work load that came with leading a war front as well as the constant threat on one's life took a toll, but Sentinel held on with pride and dignity. Something Optimus respected no matter what the media said of the older bot, yet when it came to Optimus's past, Sentinel was less than eager to answer. Thus the younger bot was left pondering over the secrecy of his past and the lack of memories that came with it.

Perhaps it would have ended there. Optimus would eventually forget that there was something ever there to remember in the first place had it not been for _that_ day.

Megatron had declared war in the past few vorns, and with his multitude of supporters, the city-states under the Autobot regime were forced to fight back. The Decepticons, as the media had portrayed them, had grown in numbers over the years and had completely alienated themselves from the rest of Cybertron in some delusional manner, but regardless, it had worked. It was difficult for Autobot spies to track the enemies and even more so to find their sourcing beacons which then made it impossible to raid the Decepticons main city-states without losing forces and killing in a waist of death.

No, Optimus refused to allow such boondoggle battles with pointless death and needless slaughter.

Sentinel, while he did not completely disagree, had warned Optimus that leaders had to make tough decisions, and sacrifices must be made for the greater good. But somehow that had seemed wrong.

Optimus was not usually one to go against his mentor, but his processor refused to believe such sacrifices were meant to be wholesomely given. If there was another way, no matter how difficult the path, surely it was worth trying?

But that begged a question that confused Optimus even more. Why were they fighting? What purpose could they possible achieve through war? But even as he asked himself this, the answer seemed to be conjured from deep within his mind, somewhere from the past.

 _Fight for a future that you can look upon with no doubts, no hesitations, only then is there no more reason to fight._

Optimus hated war, despised it, but, as the next reigning Prime, he had no choice but to engage. Somehow, he managed to survive with the voice deep within his processor speaking to him in a quite echo that reminded him of the faint reminiscence of peace. Even if he bore no memories from a world of tranquility, Optimus could feel the calm serene on occasions of silence. It must have been some feeling from his past, and he refused to let go.

But now was one such time of war, and Optimus had been discussing orders with the governors of each city-state as Sentinel tackled the war issue altogether. The group had, after a long debate, came to little conclusions with even less satisfactory decisions that would no doubt crumble under the High Council's withering gaze. It was utterly pointless, and Optimus found himself falling into depression at the thought.

Optimus had trudged out of the meeting hall with Jazz closely in tow, the said bot already half dead on his stabilizing servos, as the two met up with Ironhide.

Jazz, the first lieutenant who is first on the battlefield and last in the office, was jerked awake by Ironhide's massive servo. Guns and ammo packaged tightly in one arm. "How was the meeting?" Ironhide asked while shaking Jazz and holding the smaller bot in the air as the said bot began threatening to saw the other in half. Those two were a walking comedy show that aired twenty-four seven. If that was a good thing or a bad thing, Optimus didn't ponder over it.

Ironhide worked as a weapon specialist that had specifically made it his job to alter Optimus' weapons as well as suddenly becoming his personal bodyguard, though Optimus still held suspicions that this was Sentinel's doing. The two had met sometime after Optimus' episode of amnesia and soon after, Jazz had joined the growing group.

"Same as ever," Jazz complained before taking a well aimed swipe at Ironhide's arm causing the said bot to drop him in annoyance. "You were probably taking a stasis nap through half of it," Hide then growled angrily, a deep rumble coming from within his chasis while Jazz scoffed in defiance. "Of course not! I was totally-"

"He was asleep through the whole thing. A nanosecond before it started and a full cycle after it ended," Optimus spoke in a calm manner, ignorant to the sudden change in Hide's demeanor.

Hide paused for a nanosecond, soaking in the information before it took another nanosecond for him to call into action. The said bot immediately punching Jazz in the arm, hard. The two then fell back into their normal comedic routine of shooting and punching each other. Well, at least they were getting practice in.

Optimus then paused. Across the other side of the room was a fem and a mech talking quietly by the center window.

"May I ask who they are?" Optimus asked inquisitively, turning towards his bickering companions while inclining his helm slightly towards the window as in indication. The two mechs immediately pausing midway through what looked like Hide trying to murder Jazz before the two quickly returned to a stance of diplomacy worthy of their _actual_ titles.

Ironhide merely shrugged, not familiar with others, but Jazz, as deemed his duty to inform the Primes of all and any viable information, nodded his helm quickly in recognition. "I believe the fem is Arcee, currently an intelligence officer working as a mediator and mending broken rifts between the High Council and the Iacon Hall of Records. She is a former student of Sideswipe. The mech she is speaking with is currently the chief archivist in the Hall of Records after the disappearance and assumed death of Alpha Trion in which he enlisted the said mech as his protege after his former student's-." Jazz suddenly stopped, biting his tongue and flinching back. "Err, nevermind sir. It is nothing you should concern yourself over."

Optimus narrowed his optics slightly at Jazz in turn who looked as if he would much rather permanently offline which seemed rather odd for the energetic bot. Regardless, Optimus was not one to pry.

Jazz had then caught Ironhide's optics with his own panicked look of desperation. Hide then immediately jumped back to life. "Sir, we should probably get going. Sentinel Prime will be waiting for the report on the meeting, and we mustn't let him wait," Hide said in an urgent tone, stuttering slightly and cringing at the tense verbs because if there was one thing about Hide that every bot knew (media especially) was that the said mech would much rather curse and happily pull the trigger to a rotary canon towards his own processor then speak "flowery, poetic" words of what he called utter gibberish.

Optimus, however, didn't seem to notice as he only nodded his helm once and turned towards the exit. He did not comment on his friends' sudden odd behavior as his own processor began to ponder over the sudden recognition he felt after having seen the mech. Worse so after the mention of Alpha Trion, yet he couldn't quite understand why, and it seemed to be just another mystery piled upon all the others that was Optimus' past.

It was a moment, that brief flash of having felt something, that kept Optimus awake during stasis. It plagued his thoughts, and worse, took his attention from his duty. Jazz and Ironhide were quick to disperse his confusion but did little to aid in his search for answers which left Optimus no choice but to confide in one final friend.

"Don't tell me Wheeljack blew up another laboratory," Ratchet said crossly upon seeing Optimus' concerned face but the Prime merely shook his helm silently. Curious, and confused as to why he had been summoned, Ratchet waited patiently for the other to begin speaking which didn't take long. "Ratchet, how long have we known each other?" Optimus began, optics alight with a heated glare that dared the other to lie.

Ratchet frowned slightly. "Since we were sparklings," he then answered curtly as Optimus nodded his helm in confirmation. "So I can trust you to answer my next few questions accurately and truthfully?" he then asked though it was more of a command. Ratchet's frown deepened, but his optics remained honest as he stared back at the other with equal intensity.

"Aren't those the same thing?"

Optimus then smiled sheepishly, a look that painfully reminded Ratchet of Orion. "Just wanted to be sure," he said in a gentler tone.

Optimus had been told that he and Ratchet had been good friends in the past, yet he could not remember any of it. He couldn't recognize the other's face nor place any memories, nonexistent as they were, on the other, yet, since the very beginning, he had felt some open freedom in the knowledge that he could trust his spark in the other's capable servos. As time passed, the two had grown close again and with the Prime's encouragement, Ratchet had become the chief medic and CMO beginning with his own clinic. The two had always relied upon each other, but Ratchet never spoke or tempted Optimus with their past, and in turn, Optimus never asked.

Until now.

Optimus had always been suspicious (though truthfully he had always _known_ ) that Ratchet, despite being told that the other was his only friend from his past, was not the one he had bonded so deeply with. The dead link didn't magically sputter back to life or even flit with some recognition. It remained silent and painfully empty. But if it wasn't Ratchet then who? Who else had he known in his past when all he had been told was that it was only Ratchet? Who had he forgotten from so long ago when the bond was clearly still there?

The thought continued to race through his processor despite his attempts to squander it away. But just the thought that he had once cared for someone and they in turn had cared for him left him wondering.

He had been told previously that Prime's shouldn't hold deep, painful connections that could alter their decisions and influence their ability to lead which was why a bot, once given the title of Prime, was wiped clean of their memory banks. Though clean wasn't an accurate depiction as the memories were merely stored away deep within one's processor and literally buried within all the coding that made a Prime.

It was a process bestowed secretly upon the chosen few given the honorable title, yet Optimus had always wondered why had he given up his past life when there was someone waiting for him on the other side. Why would he willingly give up his memories that now hinted towards peace for a life of war? Why had he been so stupid as to allow the Council to cover his past?

Optimus did not know the answers, and he did not question them either. It was not his duty, yet now the curiosity burned, and for the first time he found himself asking Ratchet despite the coding within his processor warning him not to. But he had seen the mech at the meeting and the familiar feeling, the presence of something that had not existed before was so obvious that it was almost tangible. Something he had forgotten.

"Ratchet. I need to know. I need to remember," he said determinedly.

Ratchet stared back calmly. Optics staring at each other. Both refusing to budge before finally, with a resigned sigh of frustration and nerves, Ratchet spoke. "I've only met him a few times, but you treated each other like spark brothers."

Optimus could only stare in shock, the coding of the Prime's falling suddenly silent within his processor as he tried vainly to remember. There was someone, someone deep within his past, but that had only lead to more questions. Why had the other bot never attempted to meet Optimus as Ratchet had done? Had the other forgotten him, angered by his amnesia, or perhaps it was something else entirely?

"Optimus," Ratchet said warningly before Optimus could ponder over it any further. "I know what you are thinking, and you must know that there is a reason the Council so desperately kept you apart."

 **AN- I'm not fully satisfied with this chapter but I'll let it be. Once again thanks for reading, and I'm all ears (and smiles) to any comments or suggestions.**


	14. Chapter 14

Sam sighed heavily, though it came out as a deep vent of air. His fingers curling slowly as he tried to pinpoint each separate joint and forcefully tell himself to move each separate digit across his servos. The process was slow and tedious, yet Bumblebee, Arcee, and Ratchet had continuously encouraged him when even his optics seemed to stop working.

They worried. Everyone worried because Sam was living off of borrowed time now, literally.

It had been a long time (Sam had lost count and was too tired to care) since Sam had become Ante Finem. Many things had changed. Alpha Trion had disappeared and, much to the surprise of everyone, left the Iacon Halls under the care of Sam while Bumblebee had become a trainee and had recently been assigned to community service at the Halls. It had shocked Sam when the yellow bot, now towering over his form (much to Sam's chagrin), immediately recognized the other from his fuzzy, sparkling memory.

The two had then bonded quickly with Bee jokingly calling Sam a "bot of carrier instincts" though Sam understood it was probably revenge for all the times Sam had called him a "mother bee" back when he had been human. Regardless, Bee had come to see Sam as a parental figure in a world where parents were not quite needed, and Sam, in turn, had come to see Bee as the son he was never given the chance to have.

Arcee had also, somehow, joined the tiny, close-knit group to the point that they were inseparable. She, now an intelligence officer that worked part time with the Hall of Records, had become an Aunt like figure to Bee, and a deeply trusted sister to Sam.

Indeed, they had become an odd family, but Sam had grown used to it and had come to treasure his new family kindled by the thin, threads of their spark bond. It reassured Sam when he could feel the others' presence and calmed him when the loneliness of Orion Pax's own bond became more noticeable.

Thus, it did not surprise Sam when he, while organizing the library, heard a hesitant knock.

"Come in," Sam responded without looking up before chiding the other. "Bee, how many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to kno-"

Sam stopped, paused, and slowly turned around because the heavy footsteps that resounded dully against the metal ground were far too heavy to be Bee's.

The sight that greeted him was definitely not Bee. Large heavy frame choked with weapons, some hidden, others not, and a thick armor painted blue and red against the stark contrast of silver.

Sam immediately turned around and had to force his peds to move in the sudden action of surprise. "Optimus Prime!" he startled out before taking a calming breath. "Do you need something sir?"

Optimus had paused. His great helm turning slightly to acknowledge the room, the books, the ladders, and the tables making Sam briefly wonder if he remembered any of them and the times they had spent together in the halls. But Optimus did not seem interested in the scenic view. No, he instead walked towards Sam and raised his servo as if to place them on Sam's shoulders before changing course and stopping himself.

Sam frowned slightly in worry bud didn't comment. Why was Optimus here?! Sam couldn't understand why. The Council had warned him not to seek the other, but they had not told him that Optimus would be seeking him!

He wasn't supposed to be here!

The silence stretched and solidified into a weighted barrier of tense, dead air between the two before Optimus began speaking again, blissfully unaware of the heavy atmosphere. "We've met before. I know we have."

Sam's optics widened briefly before he slowly shuttered them in mid thought. What was he to do? Pretend that the other was lying? Do what the Council had always threatened he do, or say what he had always wanted to say?

Sam slowly looked back at Optimus, peering at the other's optics. The same optics Sam could still so clearly remember from the night in the alley so many lifetimes ago when Mikaela had still been by his side as a fellow partner in crime and the world had been so _right_. Could he lie to the other? But Sam knew the answer from the very beginning that he could not.

"We've met many times before, Optimus, and you change every time."

 **AN - Sorry it's so short. I was originally going to make it longer, but it seemed better to switch back to Optimus' perspective after this point and make it a separate chapter. Thank you so much for waiting and for the reviews. I should definitely be able to update by next week with, hopefully, a longer chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

Optimus' face had morphed into confusion. He had perhaps expected Sam to deny their connection and had rehearsed multiple lines to convince the other otherwise, but he had not expected this. No denial. Just a hint, an inkling of a past that only Sam now knew, and Optimus was left befuddled.

If Sam had not purposefully ignored him for vorns only to flat out propose the idea that they _had_ met, then what was the purpose in the first place? The idea confused Optimus deeply, but a Prime was not meant to ask but rather to do when all expectations fell upon him.

Yet _that_ was not even the _main_ question. "I don't understand." Optimus began wearily as he walked towards Sam, but the other bot was quick to back away and ignore him.

"Should you not be with those political cyberwolves?" Sam then asked with scorn. A hint of anger burning in his voice and seated hatred etched in his processor. "Political cyberwolves?" Optimus echoed in confusion. "The Council is far kinder than you make it sound."

But his reasoning fell on deaf audio receptors as Sam merely turned away.

The reaction briefly reminded Optimus of Ratchet's own stubborn streak, and suddenly Optimus was reminded of the medics brief and terse warning.

The two, after Optimus had finally, _finally_ , convinced Ratchet it was okay, had planned for Optimus to leave undetected to do the one thing the Council was so set that he not do. To speak with this mysterious bot that had forged a bond deeper than his friendship with Ratchet. The idea seemed obscured, but it was so tempting that not even the fear of rebelling against Sentinel and the Council could hinder his resolve.

It was far too important that he do this.

But before he had left, Ratchet had taken him aside, firmly staring at Optimus with a withered glare and warned the taller bot. "Listen Optimus. Ante Finem has had a bad run in with the Council and he won't think highly of them. There are reasons why the tension is so high between the Council and the Iacon Hall so just be careful."

"And second," Ratchet warned before the other could leave. "Don't get attached."

But that had been then, and Optimus was not truly listening. So it came to a surprise when the spark bond did not reflexively come back as it would have had they merely been separated. It didn't slowly return as some of the soldiers had described it when away on long missions nor did it even glimmer with recognition as his own bond with Ratchet had.

Because as much as Optimus Prime wanted to, he was not Orion Pax, and the memories that created Orion were his alone to keep. Optimus couldn't help but feel disappointment. Heavy disappointment that weighed upon his spark and throttled in his chasis.

But he had to know.

"What kind of bot were you once to me?" Optimus couldn't help but ask. What kind of bot was I? How many times have we met? Why is it so difficult now? Tell me everything. The questions burned on his glossa and the curiosity for answers tinged just as deep, but Sam only glanced at him while letting out a rattled breath like sigh (that Optimus would later come to realize was a frequent habit of Sam's) before turning away with a disgruntled expression of annoyance.

"I think you should leave," Sam spoke tersely as Optimus continued to frown. "I don't know why you are here, but unless you're researching, I suggest you leave."

Optimus' frown deepened as he stood to his full height and grandeur that practically tripled in mass compared to Sam's meek form. The difference was indescribably massive, and Sam couldn't help but feel a slight hint of sudden fear. Something that he had never felt before, not even as a human when the difference had been far more pronounced.

Optimus, however, took little notice.

"I _am_ researching, and I will not leave until I understand why I seem to have forgotten you," he spoke with an obvious stress on not in a demanding tone of rejection. There was a pause as Sam stared back at the other in startled silence and Optimus flinched in the dawning realization that a Prime should never lose their calm, especially not in such a commanding voice. But before he could even attempt to diffuse the situation, Sam turned to Optimus with a slight grin.

It was a small grin that barely formed on the smaller bot's face, more of a smirk really, but it was a grin nonetheless. "You have not changed, Orion Pax," Sam spoke fondly with his optics squinted slightly in his serene moment of relief.

Sam had once worried that Optimus Prime would forget the insights, the knowledge, the stubborn streak, and the kindness that made Orion Pax. Though in all reality it seemed Sam was more afraid than anything of losing the brother in arms he had taken so long to understand. But all that worrying had been foolish as Optimus, when not posing as a Prime, seemed every bit as Orion Pax as Sam remembered.

It seemed odd that once upon a time Sam had wanted Orion to be more like Optimus, collected and capable of bearing the weight of his fellow autobots and Earth itself, but now all he could think of was constantly hoping that Orion, somehow, had found his way into Optimus. For the sake of the universe, it should have been the former, but Sam couldn't deny the relief he felt at seeing Optimus being so … _human_.

Optimus had paused for a nano-klik. Surprised by Sam's sudden change in tune but just as equally relieved. The name was not his own. It did not belong to him anymore, yet it had felt so _right_.

"I am curious though. Why can I not remember you? Surely the spark remembers?" Optimus asked while watching Sam continue opening, reading, and filing books in a habitual manner that was only halted on occasions where Sam's arm seemed to hover or his servo seemed to just stop.

"It is the spark that remembers emotions, but it is the processor that remembers why. While the remembrance of a bond may remain, there is no true feelings if the processor can not connect those emotions with memories," Sam reasoned.

"But then why does my processor not remember? Did the Council take my memories?" he asked with an undertone of brittle emotions that made Sam pause in his work to stare. Perhaps it was anger mingled with the shock that Sam heard in his voice, but he could tell that this was something that Optimus worried about. This was one of those things that kept the Prime awake and taunted his dreams into nightmares. It was the kind of burdening question that Sam was all too familiar with.

Could he save the world? Did he have enough time? Was he _wasting_ time? Sam too bore the scars of questions that he had yet to answer and that no one else knew.

Thankfully, he could save Optimus from at least one such fear.

"They did not lie. It is normal for a new Prime to lose some memories in the transition," Sam placated yet Optimus didn't seem relieved causing Sam to let out a deep sigh before speaking again. "I admit you seemed to have lost more than others. Whether it was intentional or not, I can not say. Only that they took this as an opportunity to warn me that trying to make you remember would be a fatal mistake. Instead, they gave that job to Ratchet, and told me it is best I forget."

But they both knew that the past was not so easily forgotten.

"Why didn't you try to find me? Surely the Council could not have stopped you if you had tried," Optimus reasoned with a sliver of betrayal that only Sam's vorns of knowing the other had allowed him to detect.

Sam looked away. He could not tell the other that he was dying and that the Council, well aware of this fact, would have killed him had it not been for his connection to Optimus. Too afraid to kill him because of their bond, but just as afraid to let him rekindle their bond only to die soon after, the Council had instead promised him life in return for his banishment to secrecy. But rather it was not that Sam couldn't tell Optimus this fact. It was the unthinkable thought that he could not bear to tell Optimus that he was too afraid to seek the other because he didn't want to die, he didn't want to lose the possibility of Earth that his human mind was so set on keeping alive.

He could not bear the thought of telling Optimus that he was a coward.

It was this that made Sam far too afraid to find Optimus. Instead, he had convinced himself that Cybertron would be able to follow the same path as it had in the past where Sam could then aid them in the future. He had slowly, over the vorns, convinced himself that Cybertron no longer needed him for the time being, and that the world would continue peacefully before Megatron's uprising.

He was sorely mistaken. It seemed that Optimus needed guidance and reassurance just as much as Sam wished he could provide some. Now was not the time to distance himself from the other. Not with war brewing so closely even if Sam feared he could not help.

"I must ask. Do you remember a mech named Megatron?" Sam asked casually instead of answering the other's question. Optimus, far too kind to question his change of subjects, did not inquire his motives.

Instead, he looked up in confusion, wracking his processor for information and clarity that was no longer there. At his expression of defeat, Sam merely shook his helm. "Forget it."

But this was not the response Optimus wanted. He then turned to Sam with burning conviction in his optics and voice alike, so much that it startled Sam for he could barely remember Optimus Prime's voice when he was a human to be anything but bizarrely serene. Thus, Sam briefly wondered if he had gotten better at reading the said bot's emotions or if time had truly changed the mech into an unrecognizable force after so many eons.

"I want to remember. I have to. There must be some way, some how for me to remember." Optimus pleaded (or at least it sounded like a plead to Sam). Sam stared back at him, optics lighted faintly with pity and remorse before shaking his helm slowly. "No, Optimus, You will never remember." Those weren't Optimus's memories, those were the memories of Orion Pax and any memories Orion had of Ante Finem were gone. Optimus stared back with the power of the Primes lurking within his optics and radiating through their bond. "Try. Let us say we tried before we say we can not." Sam stared back blankly in shock before allowing a large smile to grace his lips which seemed to startle Optimus as this was the first time the other had ever seen Sam smile, _actually_ smile.

"Let's go to our old meeting place then. It's been a long time since I've watched the stars."

Wait a nanosecond …

Sam was about to lead the way when a sudden realization struck him, and he turned to look at Optimus with glaring optics and harsh scrutiny. Orion Pax was tall, but Optimus Prime was _taller_.

"As if you weren't tall enough already," Sam mumbled.

"What?"

 **AN- I wanted something to lighten the mood, but the ending just seemed too out of place. Regardless, I left it there. Once again thank you so much for reading and for everyone who has reviewed.**


	16. Chapter 16

The second time Optimus Prime had slid his duties to visit Sam in the Iacon Halls, Sam had been mildly amused when the supposedly great leader asked if they could watch the stars again. The third time this happened was the first time Bumblebee was with Sam, and that had been quite a shock as the trainee immediately unlocked his gun and pointed it to Optimus' helm in the same nano-klik that Optimus returned the favor. Sam had immediately, despite being a third of Optimus' height and barely reaching Bee's chasis, jumped between the two. It was times like those that he sort of wished he had a canon (maybe).

Bee, aware of Sam's nonofficial banishment, was quick to cast side way glances at Optimus with weary optics and gun half formed, but the more the Prime spoke to Sam the more relaxed the young intern became and soon Bee warmed up to Optimus.

When Optimus had left, Bee had snarkily asked how Optimus fit into the equation of their family. Now Sam _really_ wished he had installed a canon, but regardless, canon or not, it did not change Bee's immediate reaction to call Arcee who then drove to the Hall in one klik (yes, Sam counted) before yelling at Sam on why he was associating with the Prime after everything the council said.

Needless to say, it only took two nanoseconds for Bee to convince the fem to bring the said Prime into their already bizarre family. Now Sam really, _really_ , wished he had a cannon. Actually, forget the canon, he needed Ironhide.

But even if Sam wanted to rekindle his old friendship with the other, Opitmus Prime had changed, and the bond was no longer a familiar presence that persisted within Sam's processor. No, it had merely become a single thread that connected them to the past, and that was how Sam planned to keep it. He could feel Optimus' curiosity across the bond on occasion but he refused to reply; thus the bond remained dormant as a carcass of its former threads.

Yet with all his denials to Arcee and Bumblebee, Sam continued to enjoy Optimus' frequent visits to the Hall.

But, as Sam had learned in the past, all things would change. Time never seemed to like to sit still, especially not for Sam, for a few cycles later the High Council was threatened, and a cycle after that they declared war.

The visits stopped, Bumblebee was sent back to Central city, Iacon's main base of operations, and Arcee left to discuss the war front with other senior officers. The loneliness had returned, but Sam kept it at bay and watched the city lights of Cybertron one last time.

Time then continued to pass. A vorn of silence without knowing. No words from Bee, Arcee, or anyone beyond the halls that had become Sam's home. It was deafening.

But one day Optimus had returned distraught with tension and riddled with the effects of war, yet continued to childishly sneak away from his headquarters to visit Sam. Sam, in turn, did not berate the other. Instead the two simply sat at the old meeting place speaking in hushed silence among the empty halls once the mini-bots and workers had dispersed. It was then that Sam heard the first effects of war beyond the protective walls of the Archive building. It was the first time he heard about the war efforts. It was also the first time he heard about Megatron since the other's disappearance so many vorns ago.

"You once asked me about Megatron. That means you must know him; you must know how he thinks," Optimus urged after he had briefed Sam on the genesis of war, but Sam only shook his helm in response. "Sadly I do not. But I do know you, and I know how you think."

"But I am not your enemy."

"True, but you are my ally, and if I can trust my ally then why must I know my enemy?" Sam spoke softly as his voice echoed, carried by the silence of the halls. "In a world where nothing is black and white, you can not prepare for every enemy or situation you will face. Not every enemy thinks the way you want it to, and likewise, you will not move as they predict you to. Yet if neither friend or foe is obliged to move predictably then, in such cases, the least you can do is get to know your friends well. Their thought patterns, their behavior patterns – everything. Then you can let them move about freely, and then it no longer matters if you know your enemies. Does it?"

"But I fear I will lead them astray," Optimus responded in equal hushed silence. "I fear those I care for have placed their trust in the wrong servos."

Sam sighed in exasperation before speaking in a soothing tone. "You think too much with your processor. You should surrender to your senses a little more. If you truly care for someone so dearly, then your instincts won't let them get hurt. Trust yourself not to let those you love die. They obviously trust you to have followed you this far. So, you have already gained their trust; now help them gain their freedom."

Optimus was silent, mulling over the facts and pondering over Sam's words. Finally, he turned to Sam with a curious gaze of wonderment. "In the past. Did we used to talk like this?"

The question had surprised Sam who startled slightly before fixing his gaze back to the sky. Once, long ago, he had searched for Earth, but now all he looked towards was the black oblivion of space. Indeed. Things had changed.

"Yes." he responded to the other. "Yes we have."

And Sam found himself happy, a reminder that within Optimus was Orion, and the bot he had met in the future is very well the same bot he had met in the past. Optimus was startled back into silence, yet Sam could feel the tiny pinpricks of Optimus urging the spark bond back to life, trying to recreate what had been forgotten, and Sam, for once, decided to let the old bond return.

* * *

Sam wasn't a fighter, so during the war he was utterly useless. The Council felt no need for his knowledge, and his body was too weak to actually fight, yet Optimus would often confide with Sam when the war began to take a toll. And it was through Optimus that Sam found his purpose in aiding Cybertron.

The war had continued. A relentless force of brewed anger and gunfire that polluted the air with ash. The clouds had thickened, the sky had been torn asunder with raw power, and the ground … the ground was buried with the trampled remains of those now gone, returned to the Allspark where all would reunite as one.

Megatron was getting desperate to end the war, and finally, one early sol before the sun had risen, he bombed Praxus to the ground. Praxus, a neutral city that bore no ill hatred to either side, that refused to get involved for the fear of war, was now obliterated, and now all that is left is only the single remains of a once grand city.

Optimus came to him, depression weighed upon his spark which then transferred to the spark bond. And like all former times the Prime faced adversaries, he snuck away from the Council and sought Sam's comfort.

"To have an enemy is to be an enemy," Sam said while once again watching the drifting, black ash above that covered the midnight stars. Optimus did not look up, no longer keen on hope.

"This war … this war forces us to kill each other! Surely there is something more grand to war if so many bots are so eager to submit to its wills and call upon its hate. Surely some reason that I have yet to understand," Optimus had begun one lunar cycle as Sam listened keenly. Optimus had sounded so lost, so innocent and young that Sam had to remind himself that the other was far older than Sam himself, than even Earth. Yet in that moment Optimus seemed to be nothing more than a child lost in the brutal game of an adult's war, and nothing could have convinced Sam otherwise.

"Fight for a future that you can look upon with no doubts-"

"No hesitations, only then is there no more reason to fight," Optimus finished before Sam could continue. Sam had then stopped in surprise, turning to the other in obvious befuddlement. "So it was you who told me that," Optimus continued softly.

"You remember?" Sam echoed in shock.

"Yes. It is the _only_ thing I remember."

"Then you already know my answer."

"Yes, but surely that is not the only answer. This war! It consumes me with hate and revenge. The death of all those Praxians; it has lead me to want more. I fear that if I see Megatron, whether it is within my power or not, I will seek to kill him for his crimes. But how could I want to kill another living being, no matter their sins? Is that not my sin? To want to kill a fellow brother, would it not be my undoing?"

Sam was silent as Optimus continued. The urgency in his voice strained with fear, unanswered questions, and the need for guidance he was too afraid to ask from Sentinel or any other except Sam and Sam alone.

"How do I know if one is worthy to live?"

Sam leaned back against the wall. The bench, now old from strain creaking under even his own light weight. "All sentient beings have a right to live. To decide if one can live or must die, who are we, imperfect beings that we are, to judge the worth of such transcendent things?"

Once again silence resumed leaving Sam and Optimus within their own thoughts.

Then Optimus spoke in a voice riddled with emotions that he dared not show any other, not even Irohide, Jazz, or Ratchet. "Have I changed?" he asked sullenly as if already aware of the answer.

Sam had then paused, puzzled by the question before realizing what the other had meant.

 _Has war changed me?_

The question remained between them, unspoken. Sam thought back the Orion Pax, to the Optimus Prime he had met back on Earth before he shook his helm once. " _Your_ memories may continued to change, but you are still as kind and noble as I have always remembered you to be. War can not take that away from you."

The silence continued as Sam could feel Optimus' spark, though still burdened with the weight and pressure of bloodshed, begin to calm with relief and some inner sense of content peace.

Yet even with the moment of serenity, Sam's own processor wandered and swam in fears and self doubts. One sol Sam will no longer be able to help Optimus, and even now, Sam feared he would not be able to provide to other with all the answers he desired. Sam was dying, and when the day finally came, Optimus would be truly and utterly alone.

Yet Sam did not voice these fears. He did not ask if Optimus had heard news from Bee or Arcee. He didn't ponder over his own future muddled with the promise of death. Instead he let Optimus bask in the single moment of calm that beckoned the beginning of a storm. Sam would let the other have this final moment of peace before the world would once again fall to hell.

 **AN- Sorry for all the mushy bonding, but I feel Optimus has gotten younger and Sam is getting old. Added with the fact that without Alpha Trion, Optimus naturally fluctuates to Sam. Recently I've been too tired to type, much less go over my work, so I apologize for the slow updates and my current lack of creativity. So thank you for all who have beared with me and for all of your support. Each review completely made my day!**


	17. Chapter 17

Iacon was facing the full effects of the war as the Iacon Halls had become a refugee camp to those on the outer edge of the city where destruction had been the worst. The sound of close range shooting wrung through the solar cycles as the ringing of bombs disturbed the peace of the lunar cycles. The sound of jets constantly flying overhead brought along with it the fear of an attack.

But even that was the least of Sam's problems.

The Council knew.

Sam had known it was only a matter of time before they became suspicious of Optimus Prime's whereabouts, but never had he paused to consider the consequences. But it was too late now to do anything anyway.

They knew, and Sam could feel the prickle of fear that stretched across the metal confines of his skin. He was terrified. Would they kill him? They had every right to. But he couldn't die; not now on the cusp of war.

Bumblebee and Arcee were still gone, and Sam didn't wish to burden Optimus any further with his own mundane problems (added with the fact that Optimus still didn't know Sam's run in with the Council) leaving him no choice but to ponder over the possibilities alone.

Really, Sam was on the verge of giving up in the end. He had no tools to bargain, no hidden thing to offer that wouldn't immediately give him away. No choice, really, but to give in.

That was until he received his first tool of war.

A transcript that he received on a private comm one lunar cycle. It was the night before his subjugation by the Council when Sam was startled by the sudden ping. His optics immediately lighted against the dark of the night as he ran through the transcript. An abundance of files about a fully developed planet called Earth choked with inhabitants that the file called _humans_.

Sam's spark sputtered in shock as his fans vented through his overheated systems. He couldn't believe it.

There were coordinates on how to locate this foreign planet in another, younger, galaxy as well as a highly descriptive design of a stasis lock capsule that would send a singular object through space capable of bearing the weight of Earth's atmosphere and breach the new planet. The Allspark. Earth. It was all coming together. The plan that would lead Megatron and the Autobots to Earth. It was here, right in Sam's processor from the finalized design of the capsule to the littlest detail.

All it needed now is time.

But how?

Sam searched for the sender, his comm link still open for signals, yet he found none. The bot clearly hiding his location as well as his signature line making it impossible for Sam to locate the other. But then who? Who could possibly know about Earth, know that Cybertron could only live if the Allspark was sent to another galaxy away from the incline of war? Who had the prior knowledge, and why would they send it to Sam?

Sam stopped briefly in wonderment of this miracle before the realization came just as quickly as the comm link had. Of course. Alpha Trion.

Who else would have known than the one mech Sam had confided in. Whether Alpha Trion knew it or not, he had just saved Sam's life as well as the universe, and Sam felt his spark thrum in gratefulness.

But to convince the Council would be another problem entirely.

By the next sol, Sam had already planned his words carefully, stressing over them during the lunar cycle and now bubbling with energy of fear and joy mingled into a single emotion that he could not define. And that was how Sam found himself before the Council, nervous energy and all.

Sam had already met the Council once before and while nothing had physically changed, Sam still bore tell tale signs of fear deep in the pit of his chamber.

The Council was located in a large, circular room with strands of some exotic metal beyond Sam's human knowledge canopying above and lining the walls. Each councilmen sitting in circular rows between the two bots before them in a pattern of intersecting windows which created a sea of colors. The metal ceiling above, embedded with jeweled lights that reflected off of each other created a burning heat that seared across the podium, and anyone who stood on it, in the very middle of the room.

"Ante Finem," The Council began in a single monotone voice that echoed thunderously among the present. Though Sam could not tell who was speaking, through the blinding light of the ceiling, he could practically feel the resonance of each individual's voice that spoke. It thrummed through the seats and crawled through the floors.

"You know your crime," a single voice called out from behind Sam, but Sam did not turn to acknowledge the voice. Instead he responded crudely with every bitter hate he felt pouring from his lips.

"Is it truly a crime to speak with someone you've bonded with?"

"You have gone against the Council!" another voice chimed in, older, louder, and by far more annoying. "Such is punishable by death!"

There was a rounded rumble of agreement from the gathered Councilmen, yet Sam could also feel hesitance. Slow gradual hesitance that grew from uncertainty, seeded by doubt. They were angered by his rebellion and worried for the outcome of his consequence but not yet fully convinced that his deeds, which seemed perfectly plausible and _normal_ had it been in any other situation, was deserving of death.

This was his chance. The hesitance of sending an innocent mech to death's row would be his one savior. Now he only needed to twist the presence of their emotions into fear.

So it was then, with confidence ringing true in his voice that Sam spoke. "You can not kill me."

There was a slow pause, a rumble of anger that spread across the Councilmen as his words sunk in. His cockiness seeming undeserving of their sympathy. "Ante Finem, we understand your hate, but look at your situation now. Now is not the place or time to put misguided anger," another voice spoke, this time to Sam's right. It was a younger mech by Sam's deduction and softer, but Sam ignored it and continued.

"You are the High Council. You are at war. And yet the highest status of power, next to a Prime, that any mech could dream to achieve is all sitting here, in this one room, not discussing this war, not even acknowledging their own cities being pillaged to the ground as their people die! Instead you stow upon the past as if nothing has changed. Ignorant of the world beyond your gilded cage. Blind, deaf, crippled, and powerless to do anything! I don't care if you kill me. But there is, without a doubt, some shame in being sent to death by cowards like you."

Anger. It erupted through the ground in waves. It broke their closely guarded emotions with bitter resentment. It coursed through the air and buzzed at Sam's EM field with fury and malice. Pure anger. And it was all aimed towards him.

"You dare speak to the council in such a way!" the old voice wrung out again and echoed among the rumbles of anger. It was loud, and Sam fought the urge to cringe.

"I only speak the truth," he said calmly when the sounds have reduced to a buzzing of white noise, yet his words stirred up more anger. "Am I not correct? Do my words not hold some truth that you can not deny? If you hold anger, which I know you do, then strike me down. Prove me wrong, and I will humbly accept death at your hands, but if you can not crush my words here and now then my anger is well placed and my words well spoken."

It was a challenge. A challenge of honor. By now, in all honesty, Sam was beginning to feel fear course through his circuits and settle heavily within his chasis. Sam always hated speaking in front of crowds, but this, this was beyond any encouragement he could give himself.

Let them be angry. They had every right to, but now Sam had to soothe that rage. Snuff it out and twist their raw emotions they had foolishly left so bare. But Sam was not born a politician. He couldn't stand the idea of such cunning tactics, and now his own human heart beat against him.

There was a murmur as the Council began to debate among themselves. Sam's own spark pounding heavily. Patience, he had to be patient. "We will now vote," a voice spoke out among the others, obviously tired from the continuous debate when the response was so clear.

"All in favor that Anten Finem's crimes are punishable by death say aye."

The sound that resonated was loud, it echoed in a heavy chorus that momentarily made Sam's spark freeze in fear. He could not tell if everyone had sad yes, but it had definitely been the majority.

"Do you have any last words, Ante Finem?"

Sam was deathly afraid. He would die if he didn't get this right. Cybertron would die if he couldn't get them to listen. So he calmed himself, let the creases of fear fall from his rigid form and forbade it from his processor before speaking with all the calm he could muster.

"The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

There was a silence. His words slowly echoing among the halls and sinking its way into the audience. He was accusing them, something none had done before, and like a child when confronted with something new, found themselves grappling into confusion. There was no response, but they were quiet, they were _listening_ , and that was all Sam needed. If he was going to die, he just needed them to listen, this once, for a few minutes.

"I ask … no, I beg that you do not kill me just yet. Let me first finish what I have started and then my life is yours, my crimes to be punished. But I have something you may be interested in, something that could save us all."

"Need I remind you, Ante Finem, that you have already lost your borrowed time," a voice spat out. The anger was dying, but it was definitely still there. "We let you live, despite your circumstances, under the oath that you would forget your connection with Optimus Prime, yet your discard such promises so quickly, and now you ask for more time. Tell me, if you had been us and we had been you, what would you say? Convince me."

Sam paused, gulped slowly. "I would say 'you better have something worth my attention'."

"And do you?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

 **AN- I admit the reasoning behind this chapter is kind of shaky, but we all know Sam doesn't know how to do anything without a fight. Also, thanks for everyone who took the time to read my work (and correct my horrible grammar).**


	18. Chapter 18

Sam twitched nervously out in the open as he watched his surroundings with a weary optic. His whole life on Cybertron had mainly consisted of living in the protective confines of the Iacon halls, and now, now Sam was forced into the bizarre open landscape and barren world of Central City. Well, okay, that wasn't entirely accurate.

The center of the city, which consisted of a large baseline headquarters that reached for the skies, stood proudly in the middle of the deserted mess that was the rest of the Autobots' main base of operations. It was a grand building of silver and steel that protruded threateningly despite its sleek design. However, Central City was still buzzing with the efforts of war and the fear that mingled with all the busy bodies remained into a single dome of suffocation that Sam could not find it in himself to get used to or _want_ to get used to.

Indeed, Sam felt trapped.

All around him were soldiers lifting and carrying crates full of ammo and no doubt other extremities of war that made Sam feel sick. His human mind still shuddered at the painful memories conjured by Cybertron tech. But everyone seemed too busy to notice an intruder upon their midsts, though truthfully Sam had every right to be there.

There were lookouts surrounding the city with bulky protective shoulders that covered side shots to the head and large framed arms that concealed long range machine guns. Their highly impressive figures standing tall and imposing among even the bulkiest of soldiers and thus easily distinguishing them from the others.

Among them were the first class soldiers which were those that did the actual fighting out on the field. Heavy plated armor covered with belts of ammunition and pockets of explosives with an occasional sword hidden within their compartments. These would be the first ones on the field, and the first ones to die though they seemed nothing short of proud and confident as they marched by Sam in a large single grid unit. They instead strided forward beyond the outer skirts of the city towards some other city-state that would no doubt be their demise.

The slow drum of their footsteps echoed dully in the thickened air and spread ash and dust as they walked. Sam then briefly wondered if one day he too would follow in the same footsteps of a death march.

"Ante!" a voice called out causing Sam to flinch and turn around at a rapid pace. Sam then visibly relaxed and let out a heavy sigh of relief upon seeing the familiar face of Ratchet running towards him. Although, even then, Sam found the other to be barely recognizable.

Ratchet had thoroughly updated to the final form of a chief medic and officer although the appearance still remained heftily different from his Earth bound form most likely from the difference in vehicles his transportation mode was meant to take on. It was mostly white and gray with a single profound red streak of a monitor that classified his work like a startling badge on his shoulder.

But regardless, his face hadn't changed one bit. In fact, Ratchet was looking at him now with a familiar expression of great scorn and anger.

Sam immediately flinched.

"Ratchet, wait, I can explain-"

"What in the world were you thinking!"

Sam could only raise his servos in mock defense as Ratchet began yelling profanities at him in every language (Cybertron and not) at the other. Though Sam did not feel as great of an insult upon Cybertronian curse words as he would had it been English, he definitely flinched when, among all the words Ratchet chose, 'slaghead' was spoken angrily and care free multiple times.

Finally Ratchet stopped though he was still completely miffed if his facial expression was anything to go by. "It's nice to see you too, Ratchet," Sam smiled back which resulted in a painful cuff to the helm. Thankfully, Ratchet didn't seem to be in the mood to use his wrench.

"When I found out you were being tried, I was worried you fragging glitch head of scrap metal!" Ratchet said angrily with a strong pronunciation near the end.

Sam's optics then widened. "Does Optimus know?" he asked worriedly which caused the other to stop in his ranting and stare at Sam for a brief nanosecond. "No, not yet."

Sam then let out a heavy sigh of relief as air escaped in a wispy breath. Ratchet's optics then seemed to soften before hardening again. "You should worry more about yourself than Optimus." Sam smiled cheekily back. "It's a force of habit, what can I say?"

Yes, it had become habitual for Sam to worry of those around him. In some ways his time on Earth had embedded itself into his processor with the ever presence of fear. Fear that everything would change in a matter of seconds, and thus the need to protect all of those Sam held dear manifested.

But Sam was not here for pleasantries or to discuss what Bee had called his carrier instincts.

Instead, Sam had joined the war efforts in the camp to help build the capsule. The, currently, only reason why the Council had let him live for he was now the only bot to have the vital information, and to send it off or duplicate it would be a great risk of allowing Decepticons to get their fiendish servos upon the plans and leave the rest of their attempts to utter ruin (though Sam _may_ have exaggerated this for his the greater good). True, he would miss his home at the Iacon Halls, but this was Sam's only choice at the moment, and he planned to use it to the fullest.

He was now currently working with the head of the science and tech department though now Sam was slightly confused on where to go. Though this was quickly remedied through a quick confession to Ratchet.

Yet when he arrived at the main unit, he was admittedly surprised.

"Arcee!?" Sam shouted out in shock as the said femme turned on her single wheel in one elegant sweep. "Ante Finem?!" she responded back with equal vigor as the two immediately reconciled, EM fields humming slightly in their exuberance. Though Sam did not know when Ratchet had left, he was far to preoccupied to find it in himself to worry.

"What are you doing here?" Arcee asked worriedly, backing up slightly to get a better look at him, as Sam merely shrugged his shoulders (a difficult task in itself). "I was asked to help out on a new project," Sam merely answered nonchalantly while omitting any references to the Council that would no doubt _not_ bide well with the other.

Though the effort was in vain as Arcee narrowed her optics slightly at Sam. "Is that so?" she spoke with hesitance and slight apprehension though Sam dutifully ignored her. "So why are you here? I thought you were assigned to a different sector in Praxus?"

While Sam had heard little from Arcee's current adventures, he had been told briefly, in a letter from the said bot, that she would be traveling to Praxus for a short while to negotiate and collaborate a strong military wave as well as place more army units based in the city for protection. Recently the city-state had become a major key part of the war and the main stronghold that both sides, Autobots and Decepticons alike, fought vehemently for. Yet, despite both sides efforts, Praxus continued to remain neutral and thus, by treaty and law, could not be harmed or allow soldiers of any kind within their borders.

Arcee merely shook her helm once. "It was a bust. Sadly they wouldn't budge, so instead of wasting my time, I was sent here to help with any new tech."

"Ah yes, I tend to forget your a Jack of all trades," Sam said in understanding as Arcee playfully smacked him. While it had been a considerably long time since Sam had seen the other, he still remembered the first time he had met her in which she claimed to have studied in Crystal City. Truly, any processor that hailed from the said city was bound to hold vital information on the production of advanced tech, though the city itself, in an irate raid from the Decepticons, was destroyed and plundered of its wealth after withheld information from prying minds. The loss had no doubt struck Arcee deeply.

"Where's Bee?" Sam then asked, and although he tried to sound neutral, there was no denying the slight edge of fear that tainted his voice. Arcee's expression quickly fell downcast which only disheartened Sam's hope in a crushing blow. "All I know is that he was assigned as a scout, but his missions are currently considered top secret, so not even I can access the files much less tell you where he is. But I know for certain he's alive. That, I can reassure you." Sam then sagged with relief as his optics shuttered closed to absorb the brief peace. But the silence did not last long.

"So, what were you _asked_ to work on?" Arcee continued while rolling her optics as she said 'asked'. No doubt she knew the true meaning of Sam's sudden arrival, but the other promptly ignored her. "I was _asked_ to build a capsule," Sam taunted back.

"A capsule?"

"Yes. A small but highly encased and protected capsule that will launch into space for vorns before reaching its destination." He then proceeded to reflect an image of the layout and blueprint through a hologram to the other using the scanners in his optics that he had never used before till his previous trial with the Council; mostly due to the fact that the said scanners were used for scanning vehicles and projecting images. Both of which Sam never had the need or care to do.

Sam could see it, on the tip of her glossa. A question barely formed as she pondered over the value of a small capsule that couldn't even fit a sparkling inside added with the fact that such a small size meant no stasis lock mechanism could be added otherwise the bulky structure would be wiped clean and only hinder the capsule as it traveled at high speeds. Yet without the said machine, no bot, even if they could fit (and this was few and far between), would dare go in for fear of permanently expiring and going offline as the capsule traveled endlessly through the black abyss.

But Arcee had been trained at a young age not to question what had to be done. It was the soldier coding within her, developed since the first life was breathed into her by the Allspark, and thus it was against her nature to ask needless questions when they were running out of time. So instead she went straight to business. "Give me a layout and I can start working on the main body. Talk to Wheeljack, he's the head of this department, on the engine structure and how we'll implement it," she spoke confidently, back in her element of comfort as Sam nodded his helm in agreement. "Oh. One word of warning," Arcee continued as she began pulling out a large metal base of heavy constructed material foreign to Sam's knowledge though undoubtedly heavy despite the ease at which she lifted it. "If Wheeljack asks for your help on an experiment, stay away."

Sam probably should have worried about that statement more, especially when he later heard a large explosion that erupted the whole building in smoke, but Sam was occupied over something else entirely. Should he or should he not? Was it too much to ask?

"Arcee," Sam spoke slowly while trying to regain his bearings before his processor could convince him no. This caused the said bot to turn around, successfully momentarily stopping her work as she stared back at Sam's face. She then tilted her helm slightly in confusion while showing she had acknowledged his voice in a manner that instantly reminded Sam of the first time he had met her many vorns ago when her innocence had still shown.

"Can you promise me something?"

 **AN- Thanks so much for the reviews and support (and correcting any mistakes I made)! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	19. Chapter 19

Sam wasn't sure how long it had been as the science department's walls were made of thick slabs of metal enforced by concrete to prevent prying scanners from enemy forces gathering intel as well as preventing Wheeljack's experiments from detonating any gunpowder (the latter more likely than the former). Thus Sam had been trapped in a time ticking, metal resonating chamber for what he assumed was the past cycle.

Trust him, there was nothing he loved more than to understand the pyromaniac Autobot, but Arcee was determined to keep the two away (for some reason … ).

So that explained why the two of them, Arcee and Sam, were working on the capsule's bullet like casing while Wheeljack was currently tweaking the engine, alone.

"Are you sure he'll be fine?" Sam asked with a raised optic as he heard another inconspicuous explosion that left little particles of ash dancing silently in the air and a small gust that expelled the smoke towards other confines of the department.

"Oh he'll be fine," Arcee responded dryly without looking up.

The two were working in the main sector of the lab which was a large white washed room with durable, bullet-proof glass on the upper sides and a single catwalk suspended by the second floor that stretched in the center of the room. The second floor was easily accessible by stairs and had separate compartments for projects Arcee had been slowly gathering and working on.

When Sam asked where Wheeljack's projects went, Arcee merely pronounced the said bot was no longer allowed to keep _anything_ in the main room after a particular incident with a poor soldier, dropping off supplies from his superior, resulted with his confines to the med bay for a deca-cycle. As if Sam didn't get the hint enough as it is.

But Wheeljack's supposed room was rather close as it connected to the main lab through a long twisted hallway that made up the main computer. A huge intelligent machine made of wires and rows of humming circuits piled into a neat metal box that, even then, surrounded the room from all sides, hanging from the ceilings like a jungle of technology. Only the doors on either side of the room remained untouched as the computer screen, the size and appearance of a large flat screen tv, remained dormant at the side of the room. It was currently hooked to a large keypad with a multitude of buttons and nobs that Sam's processor could somewhat explain their purpose, yet regardless of his knowledge, Arcee had warned Sam that the machine was currently out of commission after Wheeljack had accidentally blown off a cable. This was said with a well aimed glare towards the back of the said bot's helm.

Though when Sam was given a brief tour of Wheeljack's supposed room, he was nothing short of awed. The mech had a large storage room that had once been used to produce a space bridge before it was moved out. Ever since, the advanced technology that made the warping, circular bridges was now produced by the technology department with the science department only occasionally revamping the machine from time to time or whenever Wheeljack became randomly inspired (and this occurred more than not).

Now, however, the room was empty and Arcee was quick to boot the old mech into the new storage space. As a result, the walls were packed with soot, ash, and burn marks that trailed up the sides like looming, shadowy figures. This room in particular was enforced with no windows, much to the relief of the public and head of the science department, as it was previously discovered such openings would easily and quickly shatter creating a bigger bill on the department's desk. Thus the room was left in a state of half shadows and lamps as Wheeljack worked. The said bot often found stooped over his work and the only light source coming from the single lamp on a desk that illuminated whatever current project Wheeljack found amusing at the time. Though the room also had its drawbacks as escaping air often came wooshing into the other ascending rooms making it well known whenever Wheeljack's experiments had gone wry. This would always be quickly remedied by a "Wheeljack!" from Arcee, her storming into his workplace to check the said mech was indeed alive, before ending with her threatening to tear down an outer wall to let the smoke out if the mech continued to do what he had been doing for the past century.

In other words, it wasn't going to happen.

On some occasions, Arcee admitted the great renowned bot would fall asleep head first into his work and wouldn't awaken until early sunrise the next day or well into the afternoon. Though admittedly, both of them, Arcee included, tended to be night owls and early birds (if those existed in Cybertron) before sleeping away the afternoon. When they had time to eat, Sam did not know.

"So it's just you and Wheeljack?" Sam asked hesitantly at the eerie silence of the room. The department was rather massive, taking up the whole East wing of the building, yet Sam had found not a single spark beyond their own. "We're the only bots you need!" Arcee boasted before adding. "All kidding aside, the head of our department honestly did not think we needed a bigger work force here since Wheeljack can pretty much do everything. I'm just here to keep him on track, so everyone else was sent to smaller branches in different city-states. On occasion I go to visit and check on them, but here it's just the two of us."

Sam merely nodded his helm in understanding.

"Plus," Arcee whispered softly with a smirk and her hand raised secretly, "Wheeljack needs a babysitter, so I'm stuck with him."

This revelation was then followed by a loud "I heard that!" echoing across the room.

It was true the science department was significantly smaller in the main residence compared to the large medical building of Iacon that rallied many great minds into one building. Even the tech department that resided in the West wing was much larger in comparison. And though the two groups were often associated with each other all the same, they only sparingly worked together (plus there was a noticeable cringe and more than a few margins of space between Wheeljack and everyone else).

The two then resumed their silence, busying their servos, when there was a sudden knock at the door.

Sam startled slightly and glanced at Arcee, but she could only shrug her shoulders in confusion as well before opening the door. There, towering through the frame of the door was Optimus.

Optimus' optics had darted wildly around the room before quickly settling on Sam with a brief sag of relief in his heavy frame before the tension returned.

"Optimus!?" Sam excaimed though the other didn't respond. Did Optimus know? Had he found out about the Council? What other reason could he possibly be there? The said bot instead merely placed both servos on Sam's shoulders, weight settling, before bringing Sam into a sweeping hug.

"If you're mad, I can explain," Sam tried to reason in a rush (it seemed he had been doing that a lot lately), but Optimus merely tightened his grip.

Arcee glanced at the two questioningly, but Sam only shook his helm in confusion (shoulders restricted from a shrug). But when the taller mech refused to budge, Sam lifted his optics to look at the other.

"What's wrong?"

Optimus merely stood there, refusing to let go. His own conflicting emotions burned raw through the EM field he emitted as his processor swayed from the unwavering calm of a Prime to the unbridled feelings prone to all creatures. Though it didn't take long for his senses to surrender him to the latter.

"I couldn't find you at the Hall and the data clerks had informed me you were taken away by the Council. I thought for sure …" Optimus mumbled softly as his voice trailed off into silence. His processor too stricken with grief to comprehend the next sentence.

This certainly was no reaction worthy of a Prime, and Sam briefly pondered over the significance of Optimus' confession added with the single tremor of his voice hidden through a mask of stoic confines.

With a soft sigh, Sam returned the choking embrace before swaddling the other in the comfort of his own (albeit smaller) EM field. It seemed to the trick as the buzzing panic receded from Optimus' mind.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," Sam whispered. "But I'm alright."

 **AN- This is a bit shorter than I would like it to be, but I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed!**


	20. Chapter 20

Life in the science department was rather fun.

There was explosions every day, followed by a yelling Arcee, followed by the sounds of screaming metal, quickly succeeded by streams of apologies and curse words rolled seamlessly into one that could only be produced through practice (which Wheeljack had a lot of those). But Sam had gotten quickly acclimated to the random outbursts as the odd group of three worked tirelessly over the capsule.

Strangely enough, they had become family. A _very_ bizarre family with Bumblebee still off the radar, but a family nonetheless.

And that was how Sam's connections widened, slowly changing over time. Sam had always been a single child, and never had he felt any need to change this as his mother and father doted on him endlessly (though his father throwing a football into his gut to toughen him up could hardly be considered love). So when Sam's family died, killed with half of the world, Sam had no other family to go to but Will. Will and the many soldiers that resided in the newly built hangar had become the closest thing to family he had left. And that was how Sam met Will's family and how he learned the loss of a child as well as a brother in arms.

It had been devastating.

Sam had then stuck with the Autobots, keen on the realization that human lives (much as Ratchet had put them) were weak, humble things meant to be as fleeting and vivid as flowers in the spring. Never had Sam been so lonely, so left with nothing but despair when one became too tired to hope.

But that was eons ago. So many years and vorns have gone by since Sam had felt the raw emotions of having a family, of _wanting_ to be a part of a family. Yet the first time Sam began feeling those suppressed desires again, he felt no joy at the realization that he had found them again, his family. Instead he contemplated over the meaning, dreaded the realization and the gradual acceptance that came after.

But it had been a long time since Sam felt those connections. Orion had disappeared as Optimus between those times, Arcee and Bee were constantly busy, and Sam had slowly begun to forget the meaning of feelings so pure.

So it came to Sam's surprise when Optimus, despite being a Prime, treated him much the same as Orion Pax.

Sam had slowly been drained from energy over the cycles of work and now Sam's body reacted to the overexertion in all the glory of what it did best: shutting down. The first time Optimus saw Sam collapse, he rushed the other to the med bay where Ratchet, startled from the outburst, nearly threw a wrench at the Prime's helm.

"Honestly, Optimus. It's just a common virus that has been getting through the systems. It will be purged by Ante's own firewalls within half a vorn," Ratchet vented out with a loud grumble followed by a few threatening swings of his tool (his weapon of choice). Optimus merely dodged this.

"Are you sure?" he asked though this was quickly shot down with a heated glare from Ratchet followed by another lazy swing of the said medic's good arm.

Optimus raised his servos in peace (which was rather funny in itself) before warning Sam to stay on the berth for the remainder of the cycle. Sam could only roll his optics in frustration before reluctantly relenting.

Optimus then left with a heavy sigh of relief soon after.

Once the med-bay's doors slammed shut, Ratchet turned to Sam. "Do you want me to tell him?"

"No. Orion worried far too much. I don't want Optimus to carry the same burden."

This was met with a set scowl which Sam couldn't help but flinch slightly from. "I know you and Orion have worked so hard to help me, but this is a chance for Optimus to be freed of me, of _my_ troubles." Ratchet's frown only deepened. "If Optimus finds out …"

"Then we better make sure he doesn't," Sam concluded quickly as the other began putting his supplies away while briefly taking notes of those he needed to restock or replace (something he was doing before the Prime's brief interruption). It only took a few nanoseconds for Sam to then get bored as he stewed over the thought of sneaking away and ignoring the Prime's warning before thinking against it. "Is there anything I can help you with?" he burst out from sheer frustration as his nerves slowly began to pulse back to life from their previously paralyzed state. Ratchet only responded with a slight shake of his helm.

"You may not know this yet, but Optimus' carrier instincts are worse than Orion's. The last thing I need is to deal with an irate Prime after _you_ decide to do something stupid."

The 'you' was said with a harsh jab aimed towards Sam along with a strong emphasis on 'stupid' as if the word itself could sum up the entire definition of Sam (which of course was an exaggeration). Sam merely shrugged before heavily falling against the barren slab of the berth with a deep sigh.

Silence then resumed though it only lasted a short while before Ratchet, usually preferring the silence, decided to humor the other in a conversation.

"Why are you fighting, Ante Finem?" the mech asked. Sam then looked up at Ratchet in confusion as the medic watched him with piercing optics that could literally look through the spark. "You are on the verge of death, yet you fight with as much determination as the rest of the army. There must be something so important to you if you would continue to burden yourself with a war not your own." Sam smirked slightly at Ratchet's blunt reasoning but nonetheless pondered over the question, mulling over how to answer before looking at the medic with a sullen face. "I guess, I want to give you all the future I never had."

Ratchet opened his mouth to respond, possibly to reject Sam's ideals, but was immediately stopped by the sound of pounding stabilizing servos and the whooshing of the door sliding open in an a quick fizz of escaping air.

"Ratchet! We have an emergency!" shouted a medical bot. There were a few others, soldiers included, with a berth in tow as Ratchet urged them into the medical bay before ushering them back out once the patient had been carted in. The said bot then quickly got to work in a flurry of movements that Sam couldn't follow. Yet, Sam was distracted by the new berth that now encompassed the entire room in the pressing weight of the situation.

He recognized that face. He recognized the build of the body and the slight tinge of yellow paint that blurred through the layers of scratches and burns.

It was Bee, and of the many states of injuries Sam had seen the other sustain, the young bot had never seemed closer to death.

 **AN- Sorry it's so short, and I've been taking so long. Sport activities have been taking a lot of my time. But once again, I'm honored by the amount of reviews, favorites, and follows this story has received. Please enjoy!**


	21. Chapter 21

Sam once remembered reading a book assigned to him during his not-so-wondrous high school years.

"No matter how bad things are, you can always make things worse." - The Last Lecture

The quote had seemed so arbitrary at the time. One of those cheesy lines people spouted whimsically. But, for some reason, the quote stuck to him now like a curse that festered worriedly in the mind (or in this case the processor).

And it seemed Sam was indeed fated to feel the brute force of the meaning worse.

Sam had been struggling with the constant doubt and fear that plagued him every cycle. Bee was in a coma, Bee was dying, and while Sam knew Bee would survive to see the future Sam had once lived in, he did not know if his sudden appearance on Cybertron had somehow altered the past to change Bee's survival rate.

And this was the problem that plagued Sam since the beginning of his existence.

He never seemed to know when it was his fate to intervene, or his fate to stay back and watch. So Sam did what he always did: worry and distract himself endlessly. His days consisted of working in the departments, finishing the capsule and finally the launcher that was, admittedly, much smaller than the normal hardware Cybertronians were used to. The launcher was built with a similar build to the larger, more common builds of other space launching pads that brought bots in and out daily from Cybertron's atmosphere. Circular in shape, and revolving with a whirring noise each time it was powered on, the machine was truly a sleek paradigm of Autobot tech, and a true masterpiece of the best processors they had to offer. Both Arcee and Wheeljack had proclaimed it to be finished, yet Sam had persisted that they continue optimizing the structure for maximum power only for Wheeljack to place a kind servo on his shoulder.

"There comes a point when your efforts are no longer worth the reward," the mech had said calmly before adding. "Go visit Bee."

Thus, Sam had lost one distraction and replaced it with another. The rest of Sam's cycles were left with him helping Ratchet in the med bay and watching over Bee with a worried glance every few nanoseconds to the point that Ratchet had demanded he either sit glued to the berth or leave. Nonetheless, Sam decided to sit.

Through this time, Ratchet had dragged out an old chess board (the Cybertronian version of it anyway) to see the light of day for the first time in what he believed to be vorns. The medic only admitting that the game had belonged to the previous CMO before he had offlined in a sudden and dramatic flare that Sam had not bothered to remember. And so it was with some reluctance to tinker with a dead bot's possessions that Sam had spent the next few cycles playing the game. Yet few bots had the time nor knowledge of the game, and so Sam was left to play at his own devices alone. But, even then, he could sometimes feel the barest hint of Alpha Trion's presence, and so came the distraction of the game Sam had once played so long ago when the evil temptations of his fate had seemed not so clear.

But the distraction was nothing but a constant reminder that Bee's life teetered as quickly and as simply as flipping the switch to a room. So when Optimus came to request Sam's presence, Sam did not question the well needed diversion. If only it had been that easy because, of course, nothing was.

"What's wrong?" Sam had asked immediately once the two had separated themselves from the rest of the base. The two taking an emptied section of the East wing where few had the knowledge to look for a Prime. Usually Optimus would be far to busy to simply talk, and now Sam had gotten used to the other's presence being meant for dire situations rather than the casual friendly "hang out" of what it used to be.

Sadly, it seemed, that this was once again one of those desperate times.

"I know your busy, but I …" There was a pause and then, "I just wanted some down time."

Sam frowned. Sure he was not in optimal condition with the constant misfortune that surrounded him, but he was not dumb either. "Optimus Prime. Tell me what's wrong."

"Ante, it is nothing-"

"I won't leave until you do."

The two stared blatantly at each other for a long moment. So long in fact that Sam had already memorized every detail, every metal crevice, lighted charge, and the slight swirl of colors that came from the Prime's optics. Perhaps Optimus had done the same for Sam as well.

There was a long pause, a sigh, and then a gradual sag of defeat from Optimus' side as the taller mech seemed to shrink inward, a movement that the Prime would never dare let his soldiers see. It then came out as a slight mumble as if Optimus didn't want to admit the truth, fearful that everything would be set in stone if he admitted it, but still forced it out in a harsh whisper, raspy on the glossa as well as the audio receptors. The weight of the realization was heavy, tangible, and hung thickly in the air like stagnant miasma.

"He's gone."

For a brief nanosecond Sam's processor had jumped to the idea of Bumblebee that he had just seen mere kliks before but then paused with hesitation over the fact. No, it was someone else. Who then?

"Sentinel Prime is gone," Optimus continued, either oblivious or ignorant to Sam's sudden shock.

But how? Sam could only pause in stupor at the revelation. The Autobot's main base of operations, although filled with hard, grizzled soldiers and the most esteemed scientific minds that did not believe or bother with the rumor mill still had its fair share of meddlesome rumors that floated aimlessly through the halls. Surely some bot would have caught on to this single piece of information? Surely someone would have leaked out the news. Surely Sam would have heard about it before now?

But after another pregnant pause, Sam came to the conclusion that no, he would not. It was a Prime they were speaking of. A highly esteemed bot of supreme power revered by his constituents in an almost god like reverence. The bots closest to Sentinel, Optimus, soldiers, and council alike, would have kept this a highly guarded secret so as to not entice sudden panic, and furthermore, had the leak been released, it would have been pushed aside as a mere publicity stunt by some fool rather than fact. Only a lunatic would believe a Prime was dead or dare to breath the thought unless it came from the mouth of a credibly source.

And that source was Optimus Prime.

The realization was slow and weighed heavily upon Sam's processor as he turned to watch the emotions of sadness and fear flit across the other's optics. Sam may not have known Sentinel well, nor would he ever as their moments on Earth were only brief encounters, but that didn't mean Sam knew the close connection at which Prime's held each other. The loss was clearly evident as Optimus remained hunkered down as if trying to avoid the prying and accusing eyes of the world. As if it was his fault.

Optimus would become the new Prime, the only Prime. While before he was in a moment of transition between the two worlds, the norm and the power, now he was being kicked into the true meaning of being a leader. The matrix of leadership would be forced upon him. He would, finally, lose every last piece of himself that made him _him_ and would devote his entire existence to the Allspark, the very thing Sam had worked so hard to ignore. Optimus would have to tell the world. He would have to stand against the council alone, mourn over his mentor's death silently, and take the burden of being an Autobot leader with no support. Yet here he was, a pillar not allowed to bow down, standing before Sam with nothing but a crumbled mask of fear.

Sam grieved for him.

Optimus was not ready. Sam could feel the doubt that infested the other's mind and invaded his emotions. Optimus had yet to learn how to hide his weaknesses, and now Sam could literally feel the fear. But there were no words of comfort he could provide.

There was nothing he could do. Absolutely nothing. Because this was Optimus Prime's fate, his duty, and Sam could not protect him from his own destiny just as Optimus could not save Sam from his own. No. They could only watch as each other fell to the whims of the Allspark and the world's cold hearted needs.

So instead, Sam hugged Optimus. Physical contact among bots were unnecessary and rare, but if there was anything Sam learned of Orion Pax it was that the older mech craved contact like an addiction. So Sam held the other tight and said nothing.

Two cycles later, Optimus left with the High Council to receive his dead mentor's final gift: the matrix. He would be gone for a long time, and he would return weighed down more than ever. So Sam told the other nothing about his own fears, how Sam was dying, or how the world was spiraling downward faster and faster to the world of destruction Sam had tried so long to defend it from. Sam said nothing and took the burden himself.

Sam would later find himself staring at the chess board again, reminiscing over the meaning, the weight, of each piece. He wondered about the future, pondered over the existence of his own life, and then … let the slow dread creep into his spark. Cybertron was now one step closer to falling into permanent shadows.

By the third cycle Optimus was gone, Bee awoke with a sudden flurry of sporadic movements, optics alighted with pain and fear. Sam was by his side immediately while calling out for Ratchet who had fallen into an offlined slumber during the lunar cycle, audio receptors still on in case of emergencies which allowed the CMO to shed the last bits of exhaustion and awaken with a start.

But before Ratchet could begin to assess the damage, Bee was already calming down. Only the sound of shuttering optics trying to analyze the situation was heard as Sam's breathing evened out. "Bee?" Sam asked worriedly. The other took a while to process the words, the voice. The said bot then turned towards Sam slowly before his optics shuttered in fear.

"Ante," he rasped out. "They're coming! Megatron's coming!"

 **AN- So, admittedly, some details about Sentinel Prime are off as we all know he is still alive, but let's just assume everyone thinks he's dead at this point... Plus he is in stasis lock so … hypothetically speaking … Anyway, I have not reread this chapter, so if there are mistakes, please bear with me. Thank you for reading and reviewing. Your continuous support has encouraged me! Also, another side note, the Last Lecture is a great book. If you have the time, read it. You won't regret it.**


	22. Chapter 22

Bumblebee is a scout, and as demanded by his duties, he investigated the bleak wastelands of Cybertron before allowing the soldiers to enter the fray. It was a dangerous job filled with hidden bombs, traps, and speeding getaways, but Bee had taken a liking to his job. It was what he was _created_ for, and he relished in the feeling of uncertainty and sudden adrenaline. It was a teenager's dream of danger and excitement.

Until he came across his first mission on Decepticon territory. It was a brief moment that ended with Bee left for dead, and he most likely would have remained that way had it not been for another scout that saved him. But during the cycles he had been offlined, Bee had been unable to relay the single information that had gotten him into that state in the first place. The Decepticons would raid the base in a matter of cycles, and as Bee had been offlined during that long time, it had changed from soon to now.

Sam had paused in shock, his servos frozen, optics merely staring as if uncomprehending of the world around him, and if there was anything about Sam _everyone_ knew, it was that he did _not_ like surprises. He hated birthday parties that insisted on the element of heart-attacks, he couldn't stand surprise quizzes, and he abhorred the existence of anything science had yet been able to pry from nature's closet of secrets.

Yet this, _this_ , had flown past his helm beyond his knowledge and had completely crippled him over in utter surprise.

The Megatron of his future, Sam's future, had never directly attacked the Autobot's headquarters of all things, had he? Sam would have remembered if it was mentioned. Surely something that important couldn't have been buried in Sam's memories in such a vital and important moment?

But Sam had no time to ponder over it. Ratchet had already grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him so strongly that Sam's whole body rattled. "I'll rally the soldiers! You have to get the science tech out of here! Megatron can't get his grimy servos on those weapons, understand?!"

Yes, Sam understood, but he was too shocked to move. However, Ratchet gave him no time to question him or time to think as the CMO was already rushing out the med bay doors. Sam didn't want to move, he couldn't. It was just all so confusing! He had spent vorns, thinking, calculating, and rethinking and recalculating for every outcome. He had waited knowing each important event that would occur, knew everything from start to finish, and yet, before he had even realized it, the world had changed again and all the rules Sam had spent so long analyzing and memorizing were destroyed to oblivion. Useless.

And this was the _worst_ time for such a thing to happen. Sentinel Prime had just been pronounced dead to the world, Optimus Prime was gone, and half of the soldiers had left with him. The Decepticons must have known, they must have planned this, yet Sam had no prior knowledge of such a thing ever happening. How could he not know?!

"Ante Finem?"

Sam turned to Bee in shock, his inner confusion grinding to a halt. The other's voice was quiet, meek, and for some odd reason, Sam was reminded of the other from the future where all he could hear was the shrill cries caused by human hands and Sam's own ignorance. No, he could not let that happen again. Not in his own good conscious.

"Can you move?" Sam asked quickly as Bee nodded his head affirmatively. Sam then wasted no time in running out the door while Bee, despite being injured, following closely behind. They arrived at the Science wing's door, busting through in a haze of panic induced motions and after having explained the situation to Arcee and Wheeljack in as few words as one could utter while explaining an all out legion attack, the team went to work.

Ratchet was wrong. It wasn't the weapons they had worked so hard on, and it certainly was not the weapons they had to keep from Megatron. It was the things that Megatron had never dreamed of, or even though to invent that was so dangerous.

So Sam, Arcee, and Wheeljack watched as they piled their own inventions, creations they had painstakingly and diligently worked on, before crushing each one and, finally, burning the remains into charcoal, metal lumps impossible to be defined or recovered.

Sam had once been bullied on the playground as a child. He had watched helplessly as a remote he had made from his dad's old television set, used to transmit frequencies capable of controlling multiple house hold appliances at once (much to the annoyance of his parents and to his own immense joy) was brutally and mercilessly crushed to mere fragments on the hard pavement in one single movement before Sam could even cry out. He remembered the pain of loss, but this was nothing like that.

This was much worse.

There was nothing comparable to the immense pain of watching your life's work be obliterated.

It only took a few kliks later for the attack to present itself in a brutal force of raw power. The building shook and the walls rattled in an effort to hold the ceiling. The floor, bracing the impact, cracked under the sudden change in weight, and Sam nearly crashed to the floor if it wasn't for Arcee who grabbed his arm.

"So, I was thinking of getting some high-grade energon before we die," Wheeljack spoke nonchalantly which earned him a frustrated glare from Arcee and a slightly curious tilt of the helm from Bee. "So is that a no?"

Arcee ignored the older mech and instead turned to Sam. "We should first regroup with the others."

Sam frowned. Yes, that would be ideal, but there was something they had to do first. There was a sudden bang, followed by a succession of pops and screeches of bending metal, forced against it's will. Arcee let out a startled gasp before pushing Sam down and narrowly missing a ricochet of bullets that then imbedded itself on the far side of the wall. Bee had immediately reacted by lifting a canon towards the door and blasting his own attack back but there was little power in the broken fuse, and the door soon gave way to two Decepticon soldiers clad in the darker armor of the Kaon city-state's color of choice.

"Move!" Arcee shouted over the crashing of machines as blasters shot overhead. Wheeljack had then slammed his fist against the door's sensors where it opened and the four bots piled in. Wheeljack then slammed the doors shut and shattered the key pad, successfully keeping the electricity flowing through the circuits broken and the door locked.

Arcee breathed out a sigh of relief while listening for the tell tale signs of the intruders still barraging through the main room, and most likely trampling the place to dust.

For once, Sam was grateful there was no windows or other doors leading to the outer sections of the wing through Wheeljack's room.

"Now what do we do?" Bee asked nervously. Wheeljack only tilted his helm in wonderment. "Is now still not the time for that monumental last drink?" This was followed by a smack to the helm.

"Wheeljack, can you call Optimus' troops for back up?" Sam asked turning to the inventor who stopped from his joking laughter at Arcee to a stoned mask of seriousness that Sam had only seen him portray while dealing with metal eating lasers. "The only computer we have is that one," Arcee said wearily while pointing towards the darkened hallway where the broken machine sat in dormancy. "But it's still broken."

"No," Wheeljack interrupted her. "I can fix it, but think about it. Is it wise to call in reinforcements? This could simply be a trap and with our communications at a minimal and are forces split, there is no guarantee Optimus Prime will be able to help." No, they didn't have time to question their decisions or rethink this through. "Just do it. We'll trust Optimus and his soldiers to be capable of planning an attack, but for now, just make sure we can contact him."

Wheeljack gave a curt nod in confirmation before he and Arcee quickly ran down the twisted hallway towards the jungle of wires. Sam then turned to Bee. "How injured are you?" he asked as Bee transformed his arm, shifting between one weapon to the next. "Not good," Bee concluded. Sam frowned. They didn't have much choice, so with great reluctance, Sam held Bee's shoulders and asked, "Can you guard the door? If something happens just tell us, DON'T shoot, just tell us."

"If it comes down to that, I can't stand by," Bee countered, and Sam knew he could not sway the other from his decision. "Then let us hope it will not come down to that," he muttered softly before turning away from the young bot and running down the steps towards the secret hallway connected through a thin, narrow corridor. "Where are you going?" Bee called out, too weary to leave his post by the door where the occasional sound of stray bullets still wrung yet nervous for Sam all the same. "There's something I have to do!" Sam called back before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway surrounded only by the cold, damp air and a single shadow that swallowed the ground into an abyss.

As a bot there was little Sam could not see, but darkness, even with enhanced vision, was obscure and blurry to the naked optic. Furthermore, with no enhanced vision, Sam relied solely on his servos guiding him down the blinding passage. His left servo trailing down the walls quickly for balance while the other stood out front for the door that he knew was there.

It took only a moment longer before Sam's servo reached the heavy, iron-cast door and a lock pad mere inches away on the wall.

Yes, this was it.


	23. Chapter 23

Sam dragged his servos across the metal panel again but felt nothing. The smooth object holding no ridges, bolts, not even an indent. With a frustrated huff, Sam then walked back a few meters, traced his servo over the edge one last time, then promptly gave up.

"You're short circuiting," Arcee said calmly despite the true horrors of such implications. Even so, her sarcasm cut through the group's tense emotions. Though Wheeljack, the victim of her response, merely waved away her concerns while still dragging his servos along the corner of another wall. Arcee and Wheeljack had managed to reboot the computer, though only for a brief moment yet their connection with Optimus Prime was minimal and covered by static. The two hadn't dared keep the connection any longer in case of tapping, but had instead opted to warn Ratchet of their situation.

Ratchet, the remaining soldiers, and occupants had all traveled towards the opposite end of the compound as Sam and the others were completely blocked off. Wheelack had then reassured the others there was a hidden, underground passage that lead toward a multitude of exits. Sam would have felt a lot better about the whole situation if only Wheeljack remembered the layout.

Alas, the old geezer could not.

So here they were, stuck, with Arcee berating Wheeljack for trusting his obviously faulty memory, though they really had no other option, while Sam and Bee continued searching for the loose panel that Wheeljack claimed would trigger the gates open. After a desperate scramble of searching Bee had suggested they shoot open the panel on their own accord, or circuit the contraption and be on their way, yet Wheeljack vehemently denied such delusions claiming to do so was to trigger a trap.

"You got us into this mess!" Arcee shouted at Wheeljack. "You better figure a way out." Wheeljack frowned, deep in thought, but it seemed everyone, including the great inventor, was truly stumped. Their brief contact with Optimus Prime had only told them the other was close. Near an adjacent city-state at most though how long that state would remain free of Decepticon influence was currently unknown. The group had then relayed this information, though vaguely, to Ratchet and his own squadron. Thus the majority of Autobots had left through the Southern, back exit. Yet that option had been removed from Sam's own group, and now, under Wheeljack's persistence, was stuck underground.

Sam usually kept a level head in these situations, yet he was truly tempted to just blast his way up. Though the main thing holding him back was fear that the entire tunnel would collapse under the sudden fire. Plus the architecture was amazing even in an obviously low maintained tunnel where the arches of the ceiling, studded with glowing stones of ethereal blue and white untapped energon created luminescent paths above. The tunnels were most likely an old energon mine by the deep indention along the walls and sometimes large pitfalls that encompassed the ground like giant craters. The structure having been scraped clean for all its worth excluding the still riddled ceiling. But it was stunning all the same, and Sam didn't think the geeky part of him would allow himself to willingly destroy such a feat.

So with heavy servos and a tired gait, Sam urged the group forward remaining silent in his vigilance.

Except for the fact that Arcee was still yelling at Wheeljack who rebutted back snarkily with each comment she made despite his old age. Sam sighed before turning around. "Arcee! Wheeljack! Now is not the time!" There was a paused moment of silence where Sam's voice echoed dully through the tunnels before Arcee let out a resigned sigh and marched on ahead. "Fine then. We're obviously getting nowhere with Wheeljack's rusted memory."

Sam could only let out another exasperated sigh as he listened to Wheeljack sputter in anger at the insult and the two's conversation quickly escalated back to a fit of yelling and mental punches. Bee only shrugged in response.

The four had only made a few more steps before there was a sudden click, followed by a beep, and the sudden intake of air being sucked in. Arcee's optics had widened before she leaped backwards, barreling into Wheeljack and shoving the older mech into the ground along with her. Sam, in instinct, ducked down, yet it was Bee, who grabbed him from the side, that really saved him as a multitude of metal shafts came hurtling towards them, zooming across the tunnel while singing the entire way. There was a whizz that traveled down the expanse of the cavern with obvious force before hitting the opposite end with a low, resonating thud that expanded from the darkness.

Sam's spark thudded with fear despite feeling Bee's servo against his arm in reassurance. There was a long pause as they could only stare at the abyss of darkness waiting for some sign of a Decepticon, yet none came. "You led us into a trap infested tunnel!" Arcee shouted out.

Sam turned around in confusion as he watched Arcee, already standing, pick up Wheeljack with ease, despite him being taller, as the other tried to placate her anger with a somewhat sheepish look. Trap? It was then that Sam had turned to see the panel across the other side of the tunnel before the path converged into two separate paths on either side. The Metal contraption was still smoking despite being half obscured in the darkness. So it was a trap. Most likely ancient as the blade, sharply pointed and obviously threatening, protruded from the contraption along the wall. The weapon having not fired to its full capacity from some faulty, rusted, mechanism though it would no doubt fire again if triggered.

Nervously, Sam inched away from the walls, but he could find no indication of what had triggered the contraption. So with some reluctance, he slowly trekked towards Arcee and Wheeljack with Bee nervously trailing behind him.

"Why didn't you tell us there are traps!" Arcee still shouted out with new vigor at the other, poor inventor, shaking him for all his worth. Wheeljack, in his defense, did look partially remorseful as he raised his servos in peace. "It must have slipped my mind," he then defended though Arcee only shook him harder in anger at the response.

Finally, after having vented out a majority of her anger, Arcee shoved Wheeljack forward out into the open of the cavern where the paths diverged. It was an act that caused Bee and Sam to flinch in fear of oncoming artillery, yet none came and silence resumed next to the sound of Sam's own pounding spark. "You're going first. You got us into this mess so you better remember where all those traps are, or we're using your body as a shield," Arcee snarled in agitation though Wheeljack only laughed before walking merrily the remainder of the tunnel and, after a slight pause, taking a decisive turn left. Nervously, with renewed caution, Sam followed behind Arcee, Bee at his side.

The group, weary and slow, had made it across a few narrow trenches with Wheeljack in the lead. The only other trap they had come across being a section of the wall that was cut out to shoot out an array of bullets as easily as one breathed. _That_ had been terrifying. But Wheeljack had been unfazed. Instead, he merely raised his servos silently commanding the group to wait before he shot out a slow, lazy missile out into the expanse of the cavern. The missile, large enough to be noticed and slow enough to be sighted within the traps sensors, was immediately pelted and destroyed in a shower of grazing metal with only the slight haze of gunpowder and smoke trailing where it had once been yet even that exploded into a miniature puff of fire.

Trap now disarmed, Wheeljack had confidently strode across the tunnel with the group close behind. Sam only briefly looked up to see the maniacal machine still pointed threateningly out into the open air between its hidden position against the rocks. The metal device appearing like a towering beast with it's ominous presence shadowed in the gloom. Sam quickly turned away, yet he continued to feel the barrel's presence pointed straight at his helm.

Finally, the group came across a stairwell. Old and beaten from use and the natural corrosion of the damp tunnels, Sam could not stop the sudden elation and relief he felt upon seeing the exit even if he tried. The stairs appearing like heavenly steps despite the grime and layers of misuse pounded into its appearance.

Wheeljack stepped forward. A slight, tentative step that had Sam nervously panicking there was another trap. Yet there was no intake of air as if the labyrinth was a living force hell bent on annihilating them nor was there the sudden rush of missiles. Instead there was only silence. An eerie stillness that Wheeljack ignored as, after the first step, he confidently strode forward. Having realized he had not been followed, the said mech turned around to Sam and the others in confusion. Looking at them from above the stairs, he let out a hearty laugh. "It's safe! I promise."

Arcee then glanced at Bee and Sam before walking up the steps with a small, barely distinguishable, sigh of satisfaction upon finding no triggers or sudden death traps. So, with relief pooling from his spark, Sam and Bee followed. But heaven above was not so sweet.

There was an acrid smell in the air of burning as unsightly fumes rose into the sky, billowing clouds of dark smoke that merged with the midnight view and covered the stars in its poisonous haze like thickened miasma. Ash, like satin gray paper, drifted from the sky with soft trails of brimstone following in its wake. There was the sound of screeching metal torn apart off in the distance as the base was decimated, ripped asunder and plundered for its goods.

The group could only watch as the place was burned, razed to the ground, in a massive halo of red.

When Sam looked back upon his days on Earth, he could not remember being told, from the numerous stories he acquired, that the autobot base had been destroyed. It had been their stronghold, and Sam held no doubts that he would have been told of such a massive blow to their defenses. Yet, for Sam's knowledge, the place had remained intact as life slowly drained from the planet and the autobots left.

Yes, Sam is supposed to change the future. But not like this.

 **AN- I was planning on doing something else with this chapter, but I feel like the heroes deserve for things to go right once in a while. On that note, I have recently been losing interest in this fic though it is almost done so I will do my best to finish it. However, the chapters aren't up to my original standards. As you can probably tell, when I get tired, my syntax structure becomes overly complex and confusing. Putting that aside, I am grateful for anyone who has kept with me this long, and I hope to finally finish this tiring journey of ours.**


	24. Chapter 24

Wheeljack had fallen behind. The old mech remaining quiet as his joints quaked under the exhaustion. Arcee had immediately stopped before directing Sam and Bee ahead. The two inventors then sitting beneath the shade of a towering fallen generator that had sunk deep into the ground with only its top columns protruding from the wasteland. Sam was reluctant to leave them but the sooner he and Bee reached the meeting place, the sooner Wheeljack could get help.

The two trekked in silence. Sam's own receptors buzzing in white noise as he found himself concentrating on the slight sag of his shoulders as he breathed which whirred softly in response. He then shook his helm in frustration and instead focused on moving each limb separately, but the effort seemed more daunting now then ever. He wanted to stop. He needed a break from his own mechanical body, and yet, he knew the moment he allowed himself to stop he would not be able to get back up.

"I can sense the others!" Bee said excitedly as he stopped to turn and look at Sam. The said bot trailing after in stumbling exhaustion. Bee immediately retraced his steps and grabbed Sam's shoulder in an attempt to steady the smaller bot, yet Sam shrugged him off. "I'm fine," he hissed softly though it seemed his age was getting to him. However Bee's stance did not change as Sam let out another burst of energy and forced himself forward. "Ante Finem," Bee said calmly causing the other to stop in surprise. "Let's take a break."

The voice was commanding, serious, and sullen. The kind of voice Sam heard on the battlefield, and he immediately found himself obeying the other. The two then paused by a burnt out shell of a former building. Melted glass and pools of liquid silver glittered across the ground like scattered stars, and Sam found himself gratefully sinking to the ground under the shade of the desolate city. His optics shuttering closed as his systems cooled down. Bee followed suit, and Sam only briefly watched the other's searching optics scanning the area for enemies.

"Bumblebee, will you forget me one day?"

Bee startled in surprise. His scanners stopping from the surrounding parameters to gaze upon Sam in momentary shock as his door wings shot up. "You're barely older than me," Bee then teased as he relaxed against the side of the building as well. "It's hardly time for you think about joining the Allspark so soon." But they didn't talk about Sam's health nor the way his senses had dulled considerably past even that of a bot twice his age. His spark was faulty, it simply couldn't keep up with the others, and as the war on Cybertron began waning to an end, stretching beyond this planet to the universe, Sam was only expecting death. And with his optics still closed in the resounding silence, Sam accepted the fact that he would be forgotten much like the rest of the world he had come from.

The two had then remained in content, yet solemn, silence before Bee jumped up in surprise. Similarly, Sam had jostled in his relaxed position at the sudden loud static that buzzed through his audio receptors.

" _Hello?"_ , a voice resounded through their processors. _"This is Optimus Prime. We have received your distress call. State your designation and position."_

"This is Bumblebee from the third platoon," Bee immediately responded with optics searching the distance. "I have been separated from my group after the Decepticon raid." There was a pause as Sam watched the other with baited breath.

The signal had changed to a private line and Sam could no longer hear the Prime's words. Bee, however, was listening intently to the other before glancing at Sam and responding, "Ante is with me." Bee then smiled and relaxed. "Right sir. Bee, out." Bee then turned to Sam. "Optimus will send a small squad to come pick us up."

Sam then watched as the other sat back down, letting out a long sigh. "It seems our esteemed leader was worried about you," the younger continued with a optic ridges raised and a small smirk gracing his lips. Sam only frowned. "Don't. Just don't." Bee's smile only widened.

It had taken some time, but the group finally returned with a second squadron sent out to retrieve Arcee and Wheeljack which lead Bee and Sam to wait in seclusion with a berating Ratchet in the makeshift med center made from one of the abandoned buildings.

Bee had only laughed off the said mech though Sam found it difficult to embrace the other's optimism. The world had shifted again. The subtle changes becoming more prominent as Sam tried to reason with what, exactly, had changed.

The group had decided to camp out along the border between the Autobot's city-states. Only a few remaining in seclusion, but here the ground was barren with only an old factory remaining as a useable facility, excluding a few minor buildings scattered about. A seeker could easily scan the ground from the skies above, and it would be over for all of them.

They had to move. That was obvious at least. Yet where to?

"Can't we ask for help from nearby city-states?" Bee asked through the haze of Sam's whirring processor. Sam paused to listen to the response.

Ratchet merely shook his helm once in defeat. "No, they probably have all heard by now of the Decepticon's success. They won't be willing to help for fear of facing Megatron's wraith, and if anything they would most likely turn us in to reap the rewards."

Right. So they were alone.

Sam sighed before standing up from the berth though it was more of a wobbly table than such. "I'm going for some fresh air," he explained upon Ratchet and Bee's worried looks though it was only after he had exited the medical bay that Sam realized the sustenance and need for air was a very human thing to do.

Once outside, Sam closed his optics, searching for the magnetic threads of souls that weaved their way around each other. It wasn't difficult to feel the resonating presence of the Prime's own spark and Sam was quick to follow suit.

Surprisingly, Optimus was outside though Sam figured as much since the inner interiors of the buildings were mostly used for housing the injured as Ratchet had explained it. Though Sam narrowed his optics wearily upon nearing Optimus and his surrounding team. There was Jazz, yet every other bot remained a mystery to Sam. There appeared to be a general donned in the patriotic colors of red, white, and blue alongside another white mech. Their forms were large and menacing like titans surrounding an oculus.

Yes, Sam was used to being smaller. His whole life consisted of looking up tot he skies, but this was different from the councilmen. These were real mechs that lived and breathed war, that killed many, and Sam felt the awe and respect morph into shirking fear. The small group of commanders turned towards Sam upon seeing his approaching form though he had no doubts they could feel his presence even before then. Their optics narrowed in suspicion though Optimus gave a noticeable soft sigh of relief.

"Ante," he called out to Sam while beckoning the other forward. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'm fine," Sam said only shaking his helm in discouragement. "There's something more important I have to do." This caused Optimus' optic ridge to raise in caution. Sam seldom had important tasks unless they required secrecy and delving helm first into odd predicaments at best.

"With all due respect, sir," a voice spoke up towards the Prime who only turned in acknowledgment. "We need to decide our next move, and this folly will have to wait." Optimus shook his helm once while resting both servos against the dais. "Ante Finem is a good friend. He would not bring up something so menial and irrelevant if it were not in our best interest. Besides," Optimus said while looking up towards the others with narrowed optics in a rare show of physical emotion not typical of a prime. "He is the chief archivist of the Hall of Records and a former student of Alpha Trion."

Sam flinched upon hearing this. There was little kindness in the council reserved for Alpha Trion as the two political groups remained on bad terms, to put it kindly, yet the soldiers seemed less concerned with Cybertron's politics and did not comment on the rift between mentioning the old mech's name. For that, Sam was relieved. Instead, the group had stiffened as rarely was Optimus so brittle in his words though one could barely call it angry. It was more so reprimanding, and Sam had to smile slightly at the familiarity. Too many times had he been on the receiving end of the Prime's disappointed glare.

There was a slight awkward pause as Sam shifted slightly upon feeling the surrounding EM fields magnify. He was unfamiliar with the reasoning though it reminded him of a preening peafowl for the longest moment before he cleared his head to focus. "I have been working on something under the council's orders, and it is ready to launch; however, it would require a big risk."

"Launch?" The commander asking gave Sam a weary, skeptical look. "What is the purpose of this tech?"

"We have built a capsule that will be launched into space with preset coordinates for another solar system," Sam reasoned. "It is our remaining duty to safely bring the Allspark to its final destination."

There was a pause.

"What?! You want us to launch the Allspark into space?" Prowl exclaimed in surprise. There was a few mummers in Prowl's favor though Sam only expected as much. "It's no longer a matter of saving out planet," Sam once again tried to placate. "Our main priority now is protecting the Allspark." But at the same time it was so much more than just that. It would bring damnation to Earth. It would destroy Sam's life and snuff out many others before they had come to their fruition. It was literally bringing a beacon of death smack into Sam's home. But, as a result, the Autobots would get one last fighting chance for one final millennium.

"Optimus Prime, sir! You must not agree with this," another commander stated, clearly affronted. The prime merely shuttered his optics closed, deep in thought. "You say the council approved of this endeavor?"

Sam frowned in a mocking manner much as he would with Orion's naivete. "What do you think I have been doing for these past sols?" There was then another pragmatic pause as Sam waited with baited breath. The Prime then turned glowing blue optics upon Sam. "First, show us what you've got."

* * *

Sam briefly wonders if it's a bad idea. If they Autobots failed, they would die a horrible pointless death, and all the blame would fall to Sam whether he would be alive to see his failure or not. And even if it were to succeed, if the attempt resulted in only more death and chaos, it would all be for nothing. As foolish and as fleeting as the autumn breeze. Yet they had no choice, and somehow being pushed into the corner made Sam more grateful than being given an option.

But it was agreed upon that this was the best option, and now it was no longer a decisive moment on whether or not to call forth into action but a matter of time. And, in a manner, a moment to say goodbye.

Sam rested his helm against the berth. His optics watching the speckles of dust drift lazily in the air, gathering in a whirlwind reflected only by the dim starlight of nearby planets and dwarf planets alike. This would be his last recharge on Cybertron, and strangely he found himself filled with more excitement than dread. The prospect of an unknown future, though a future nonetheless, was inspiring at least.

One more lunar cycle, and that would be it.

That night Sam dreamed. He dreamed one final image of the Autobot's old base on Earth. There he could see Will and Epps locking arms in another stalemate battle of power. Mikaela was speaking with Bee about the curious nature of a bumblebee's flight. He could then see Ratchet berating Jazz for another rowdy stunt as well as the skid marks now garnishing the floor for his troubles. It was a soft moment, hazy in his memories, and Sam found himself amazed as he lifted his servos, no hands, before his face. They were rather small compared to the robotic servos of Cybertronian life forms. They were calloused with use, scarred at the tips from the thousands of times he had scraped them from buildings and tumbling from metal giants, but they felt the world in tender groves.

It had been a while since Sam had dreamed, but it seemed this would be the last piece of his memory. A reminder that, once upon a time, he had been human.

 **AN- First of all, I would like to apologize for the delay. Second, I am not happy at all with this chapter, and I'm sorry for giving you such a poorly written installment especially after so long. I don't know when I will feel the incentive, or have the time, to post again, but I just wanted everyone to know that I am so grateful for all the reviews. They certainly motivated me to at least try to get this chapter done though it still ended up a disaster anyway.**


	25. Chapter 25

"I'm going," Sam said determinedly.

Optimus cringed slightly while letting out a deep vent of air in mid frustration and fear. "Ante Finem-" he began while trying to placate the other, but Sam would have none of it. "I am going, Optimus Prime."

The rest of the group was mildly amused, yet understood Optimus' frustration.

"It's dangerous."

"I'll be fine."

"You don't have a weapon."

"I won't be fighting on the main field."

Optimus sighed in a reoccurring habit he was slowly gaining from Sam. "It is much safer here."

"It is much more productive there."

"Slag it!" Ratchet shouted as Optimus opened his mouth to retaliate. "Just bring him along!"

Sam tried to show his appreciation to the said ranting CMO who was now retaliating against their esteemed leader, but both knew it was not for Sam's sake. As of now, he was the only one who knew of the location and pass code to the generator and launcher. Thus there truly was no choice, but Optimus had still demanded they search for other conclusions.

The plan was truly risky, and even now, Sam could feel the buzz of trepidation from the surrounding soldiers with their massive forms and, likewise, intense EM fields. It was almost suffocating if it wasn't for the constant presence of Optimus Prime's own EM field forcing out persistent waves of calm which dully reminded Sam of his earlier days in the Iacon Halls. It was a reluctant memory and Sam squashed away his qualms as quickly as they had arrived.

There was little options they had left. A testament to why Sam's plan had been so favored by the small group of officers, informants, and relaying scouts. For now, the information they had garnered from enemy troops attested to the future's predicaments, and for a few cycles at least, the present aligned with Sam's memories. But it would be a fleeting moment of success. A brief wrinkle in time that actually made sense, that Sam could successfully predict, and that for once, he could conclude with certainty.

But their time was waning, and the momentary parallels of space would once again separate in the span of an eclipse. So, with that conclusion, Sam had used as much information as his processor could recollect from the hazy past though his conscious had less clarity than preferred.

The remaining Autobots would be split into two groups with a larger ambush team being the predominant basis of the first. A majority of fast paced platoons taking the second shift to Tyger Pax. It was a pitiful tactic of desperation that had Sam cringing, practically sinking his spark into oblivion, but it was all they had. It was the only path he could take that would ensure success, and with the fluctuation of time changing so rapidly, drastically at certain points, Sam could not risk changing the future any more than he wanted to. So with the dangers of awakening a true battle of annihilation, Sam had to risk it all.

Sam watched the others. The air fizzing with private connections opening and closing at rapid speed. A small greeting followed by vows of encouragement, godspeed, and then a final parting. Their bonds falling away through mental blocks partially to ensure they would not become a liability, so that the enemies would have no reason to keep them alive as prisoners or bait alike, and finally, so friends and family would never know the pain of their loved one's descent. It was a small blessing.

The two groups had parted. A death march through silent terrain. Cybertron's own children treading across their land in a one last communion. The weight of their ideals, their dreams, their futures, a ever constant reminder upon their sparks more so mental than physical but painful all the same.

The first group had arrived to the very same back tunnels that Sam had escaped from. The crowd peering quietly into the depths of the ancient pits watching the shadows grow as the luminescent stones cascaded into eternal darkness from Cybertron's dying breath blowing only wisps of remaining life into her creations. Sam could only stare back into the abyss.

Only a few joors before had Sam been parting with Arcee and Bee.

Sam found himself torn. Save Bumblebee, or ensure his duty and follow Optimus. With a slight grimace of pain, optics alight with regret, Sam turned to Bumblebee, placing his servo gently on the taller's helm which Bee automatically leaned in towards like the touch of a mother. "Be safe," he whispered quietly, willing it in his words and praying, begging the Allspark to make it true, even if he knew it would not. "I'll see you on the other side."

He then turned to Arcee who immediately nodded her helm. She remembered that promise, and that was all the reassurance Sam needed.

But Sam couldn't stop the dread, the pain of it all. This was good-bye. He could feel it, and it seemed they could feel it too.

The two had then turned away, preparing to leave with the second unit in a dangerous suicide run. They would be targeted as a ruse, separated with no back up against the larger forces of Decepticons, and if Sam's memory served, against Megatron as well. They were small sacrifices against the bigger picture and for all those infiltrating the old base for one final stand. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to Sam for the younger bots to be picked for the mission, but such measures required speed and it seemed youth correlated in a painful twist of irony.

Sam still remembered it. Some bitter notions remaining, stuck to his glossa.

" _Arcee. Can you promise me something?"_

Arcee and Bee paused before glancing back at Sam and giving him a one handed salute.

" _Of course."_

Bee turned away.

" _I need you to protect Bee when I can't be there."_

Arcee took a moment longer to glance at Sam with one final flick of her optics before she too turned her back to him one last time.

But that had been joors before. Their connection from the platoons had long been separated from distance, time, and quite possibly death. There was no turning back now, and Sam could only look grimly into the future of the shadows they were now about to step into.

With a final breath, Sam whispered quietly a soft prayer, some chant to ease his mind and soothe his racing spark. But no sooner had his voice vibrated through the contours of his throat, did Sam stop in befuddlement. His glossa did not move. His mouth could not form the whispers as they died listlessly in his throat.

With a bated breath Sam realized he had forgotten how to speak English.

 **AN- Short update, but hopefully it clears up some events. First of all, the promise Arcee and Sam made occurred in chapter 18, if anyone remembers that long ago. Secondly, his inability to speak English is supposed to be the last shred of humanity taken away from him, and a sign that because he has lost his humanity, God, and other divine beings (whatever you believe in) will not save him because he can not communicate with them. And thirdly, the conversation at the beginning is supposed to be based off of the many conversations I have with my friends... spoil sports...**


	26. Chapter 26

Sam's breath came out in little huffs, soft clouds of dew among the cold of the machines.

"Ante Finem. Are you alright?' Optimus asked.

Sam did not have to look up at the other and instead only sank his helm further against the wall. The two of them had been separated from the main group upon entering the main units of the building though in reality Optimus should have been alone had it not been for the Prime's split decision to suddenly grab Sam and ricochet the two to the side as the ceilings collapsed into rubble. Their comms were down as a result and the two were stuck walking through lonesome passages which would not have been so difficult if Optimus was not carrying the Allspark. The glowing object contained within his chasis for protection though the ancient being was clearly disturbing Optimus' functioning as twice Sam had witnessed the great Prime suppress a shudder under the armor of his form.

Sam shuttered his optics before glancing up at the other. "How about you?" The other continued to watch him despite the evasion, before reluctantly continuing their trek across the barren Decepticon halls. "I can still fight," Optimus said confidently. Sam then watched as Optimus strode forward, but all Sam could feel was dread. Perpetual dread. "That wasn't what I meant," Sam whispered softly before following closely behind.

The Allspark was surprisingly quiet throughout the ordeal, refusing to speak to either its Prime or Sam though Sam doubted Optimus knew it could do such anyway, and Sam felt no concern over the Allspark's being. Thus, the silence resumed only to be disturbed by the thudding of Sam's own spark followed by the hushed drum of their footsteps.

It felt odd to Sam. The whole situation bringing waves of nostalgia and déjà vu in the worse sense possible. The last time the three of them had been together had ended severely wrong. In fact, all of Sam's interactions with the Allspark had been nothing short of life changing and detrimental to his health.

Sam was then pulled out of his musings upon recognizing the tell tale signs of glowing, raw energon against the cavern like entryway. "Optimus," he called out as the other stopped mid step to shift and look at Sam. "I recognize this place, we can get above ground through the next tunnel and meet up with the others in the main sector."

There was a pause of silence as Sam watched the other's processor whirr in thought. "That may be dangerous. The Allspark has a strong presence that even my EM field can not conceal once we are above ground. Is it possible to avoid all main sentries?" Optimus asked with a kind tone though Sam felt nothing short of being patronized. The two stared at each other for a moment longer, Sam's spark sinking in more, unspoken, fear as deep within his processor he recognized those words. He had lived this moment before at some point, yet that idea alone was impossible. Sam knew he had never lived this singular moment in any part of his life on Earth and Cybertron alike, and yet his processor seemed to be making impossible connections, flashes of memories and pictures formulating in his helm every time he blinked, almost like predictions, dark premonitions.

"Ante?" Optimus called out worriedly.

Sam shook his helm twice to rid his thoughts and clear his processor. "Ah, right. Follow me."

Sam then lead Optimus deeper into the hollowed out sections and, with nervous optics, scanned each wall and crack as his dread only intensified. The Autobots are supposed to win, at least this if nothing else, and yet Sam felt as if he was leading the one bot he was supposed to protect to their doom.

But the more they walked, the more Sam shed his internal fears and tried in vain to put up a brave front. Sam had lived through hell before; he had experienced it a thousand times. Yet his bottled emotions continued to renew themselves with each event, refusing to be forgotten. And somehow, every problem he faced seemed harder, more mentally exhausting, than the last. But how much more sadness could one feel after watching their entire planet over run and destroyed by alien titans that treaded their cities and humanity like child's play?

It seemed the darkness was taking over his thoughts, so with one last shake, Sam urged himself to move faster. The walls began to change from sodden stone to the clear, smooth metal of the sector units. Sam immediately felt his breath come out in a stuttered sigh of relief. "There's a stairwell leading up to one of the storage units from here on out, but it's most likely blocked. We can instead reach the server room from the vents."

Optimus paused to think before nodding his helm once and immediately working his way through the vents' opening. His servos working quickly as the screws were pried from the top section with loud screams of protest and the sound of bending metal. Once released, the airway came out cold as the vents, propelled by cooling condensers, shot the air to the main server rooms while also extracting the warm, humid air created by the machines' overexerting heat. Aided by energon, the machines were far more efficient than those on Earth, yet the mechanisms were familiar and Sam felt some aided calm in that knowledge.

Sam was able to easily squeeze through but stopped as he reached out to help Optimus. The said bot only closing the vents and sealing them shut. "Optimus!" Sam shouted in surprise as the other placed the last screw in place with utter care. "Get to the main servers. I'll meet you there," Optimus simply relayed though Sam could hear the sound of pounding stabilizers and the sound of screeching metal followed by explosions as the door to the stairwell was ripped off of its hinges. "Go! That's an order, soldier," Optimus continued firmly when Sam refused to move, but before Sam could stop him, Optimus had already charged from his vision towards the ensuing battle that had most likely been notified to their presence by the sound of whirring machines and the now enclosed vent.

There was the sound of explosions, blasted fire, as Sam violently shook himself out of his revere and followed the cold air towards their final destination. The more he walked, the more his senses began to numb, and before Sam could realize it, the distant sounds of battle faded into the white noise of the air vents. Sam was now alone in the wall of a now Decepticon controlled base.

Sam's breath came out in a shuddering mess as his servos began to shake with fear or exertion, Sam could not tell. But he had to move, regardless of emotions. Optimus needed him to move; the universe needed him to move. So with some reluctance in his stabilizing servos, Sam propelled himself forward.

It was a short route, surrounded and encased by thin metal, but Sam made his way across the sections of divided walls and stopped short of a large ventilation shaft which craned upward to another opening. Sam hesitated, weary of the noise the ensuing escape would make, before rushing forward and slamming himself against the vent's opening. The screws giving way easily and clattering to the floor listlessly along with the vent's panel. Sam flinched slightly at the reverberating sound, but otherwise ignored it as he leaped through the wall's opening and into the room.

The room was dark, soaked in shadows that made Sam's spark thud. The only light condensing from the many rows of servers which glowed neon against their black confinements. There was the sound of fans whirring in overdrive, air sucking the producing warmth out, as well as the cold vents still replacing the stagnant room with circulating air flows.

Surprisingly, the room was somewhat familiar, yet Sam had never been allowed in such a place. His station didn't allow it. Regardless, Sam found himself, almost unwillingly, being guided towards a connected room that glowed in a soft halo of blue light. The control room.

The screens, transmitting security images, practically stunned Sam from the surrounding darkness as he walked forward, hypnotized, by the familiarity of it all.

Sam was stopped by the shadowy images the reflected back from the haze. Autobots. There was the main group they had been separated from being blocked by the sector's security system and metallic walls that, without hinges, could not be budged by the undoubtedly powerful explosives being aimed towards it. Their efforts only being rewarded with black ash and the consequential heat.

Sam's optics than quickly roved through the panels only to stop short with a startled breath. There was Optimus battling multiple Decepticons in a singular room that must have been connected to the stairwell as the battle had progressed deeper into the building's layout. He had to help Optimus.

Spark still pounding against his chasis, Sam's servos began to nervously flit around the panels in mid panic as he began to chant in his processor, searching vainly for the security system's controls meshed and interwoven among the many other buttons and leavers. In a flurry of panic, Sam found himself shuttering his optics closed before sending out a comm signal. The line buzzed only once before Sam's audio receptor was filled with the sound of a connection causing Sam's entire body to sag as his tension fled.

" _Ante?"_ the voice began through his processor. _"What-"_

"Wheeljack, I need your help," Sam began. "I have to disrupt the security. If I connect you to the port, would you be able to get through the firewalls?"

There was a pause as Wheeljack's voice became serious. _"Give me one klik."_

That was all Sam needed as he began to transfer the signal to the large machines. Perhaps it was his concentration, the adrenaline of the moment, but either way, Sam could not stop the way his body convulsed in shock as a voice shook to his very core from the shadows of the room.

The first words Megatron said to Sam in a long time were, "Your still alive?"

Sam could only turn his helm slowly in shock at the towering mech before him glinting silver in the panels' lights. His spark stopped suddenly, no longer emanating fear, but instead stilling completely like a rabbit caught in the sights of a wolf.

" _Ante?!"_ Wheeljack's panicked voice cut through. _"What's wrong? What's happening?"_

Sam said nothing in response. His optics watching Megatron wearily as the Decepticon leader stepped forward. Very slowly and deliberately, Sam turned off his signal as the sounds of Wheeljack's voice echoed and abruptly stopped into silence.

 **AN- Okay so I apparently have some explaining to do. I did not realize the impact me earlier author's note would have, so hopefully, I can clear up some misconceptions. Sam being unable to speak English is supposed to be reminiscent to Macbeth when (SPOILER ALERT), after killing Duncan, is unable to say amen. It's more of a mental block than a physical one, so his loss of humanity is more figurative than anything else. Additionally, it has nothing to do with his psychical body. Sam's body deteriorating is because his spark, based off of the human soul, is significantly smaller that that of a regular Cybertronian which is why he is smaller in form and unable to control a robotic body as well. Additionally, being in a Cybertronian form only increases his life span somewhat as compared to others, he has a very short lifespan mostly due to the fact that he was once human and is unable to survive that long naturally. In reality, for a human, Sam is very old, so his mind is, essentially, slowing down much like an old man, but the Allspark is keeping him alive by putting him in a mechanical body. This, however, can not correct his natural deterioration. Hopefully that makes more sense, but I just wanted to say I am very grateful for the interest in this story. If there are still other questions, I would love to answer them. Also the reason I'm posting this on Sunday is because I realized I would be very busy next week, so I quickly finished this chapter. Hopefully the writing doesn't reflect that rush. Once again thanks for reading and your patience!**


	27. Chapter 27

He shouldn't be here. That was the first thought that invaded Sam's mind.

Megatron wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be at Tyger Pax. He was supposed to be distracted by the promise of the Allspark there of all places. He was, in every sense of disgust that Sam regrettably felt, supposed to be fighting Arcee and Bee in a concluding ending that would follow the same outcome as it had in the future of Sam's world.

But here he was, metal, flesh, and all, with the same towering form and crimson eyes that glowed reverently in the resounding darkness. There was always something ethereal about optics and the lighted way in which they shined, but Megatron's were just … frightening.

"To think the council would keep you alive," Megatron tsked with both arms crossed neatly behind his back. This leaving Sam unsure if the other was concealing a weapon or merely trying to pacify his already pounding spark they were both bound to hear in the following silence. Indeed, Sam said nothing in response. His optics only watching the warlord's form wearily as the said mech walked closer towards Sam. "Was it pity that saved your spark?"

"Who knows," Sam whispered out softly as his servos clenched nervously at his sides. Megatron laughed before reaching out, large claws and all, towards Sam. The smaller bot watching behind narrowed optics though he refused to flinch as the other's digits took hold of his arm and ripped the port away from the machines in one simple swipe. "Pity won't save you here," he snarled before releasing Sam's arm but not without a harsh shove in warning causing Sam to stumble back.

The warlord then turned around, walking in leisured circles around the room, almost pacing. Sam tried to remain passive but he could feel his servos shaking slightly, practically trembling in the other's presence as the feeling spread from his limbs to his already ailing spark as if his own body was trying to give himself a heart attack. "I'm honestly surprised," Megatron continued his mantra without further prompting much to Sam's relief as he quickly scanned the machine for some sign of Wheeljack's work in progress despite the now closed connection. Megatron then turned around and their optics met in a stalemate. "Your kind don't last this long."

Sam himself frowned in confusion. Surely Megatron had not meant that fact that he was human? That didn't seem to be the case as the larger mech only further stared Sam down from his higher vertical point. "Your referring to how I haven't been sent to the smelting pools," Sam spoke softly. "Yes," the other hissed in recognition. "I assume it had something to do with _Orion Pax_ ," he spat out, hissing the name as if it were a curse. "It's never too late to join the winning side."

Sam's frown only deepened but he said nothing in response. Megatron straightened though his face was less than pleased. "Don't you feel pity for your fellow grotesques? Don't you want to see a world where all bots are equal; where your kind don't fear eradication the second your legs stop and labor is no longer an option?" Megatron added.

"The council is changing. Optimus Prime is forging a new world, and besides, don't try to cover the fact that you _Decepticons_ are also indulging in the smelting pools to eradicate your enemies," Sam responded though it only took a moment longer for him to regret his words as Megatron back handed him harshly no more than a second later. There was a resounding thud as Sam hit the floor in shock. His optics became blurred and his helm rang from the impact.

"We are only using the pools left by the _dear_ council after they abandoned the Kaon city-state to the slums of the impoverished! We only refurnished what _they_ left behind! Do not look down on our methods when they are only the means at which we defend ourselves from your _beloved_ council's own practice," he shouted profusely at Sam though the words barely reached the latter as he could still hear the high pitch scream of his audio receptors. But Sam was not blind to the councils past mistakes. He knew the setting to every gladiators final days. How they feared a single loss worse than death in the ring. He had even read the great fall of enemies to the hellish, fiery pits of demise. "Like I said," Sam rasped out angrily, "the council is changing. The Decepticons are the only ones using those smelting pools now." Sam then turned to face the warlord, staring equally at the red optics that glowed back with only menace and hate that came from continuous war. "Your the only enemy here now."

Sam didn't quite know what happened next.

One second he was looking up, and the next, he was struggling to breathe as his vision grew fuzzy and the corners of his optics seemed to darken into the shadows. His limbs refused to move and all Sam was reduced to doing was heaving out energon that dripped from his lips at an alarmingly fast rate. It took him a moment longer to realize he had been shot, but Sam couldn't event feel the pain as he tried to remember if he had even heard the sound of the flier's gun much less felt the piercing of metal into bionic flesh. But there was no memory of such, only the ensuing shock as Sam spat out more energon on to the floor.

Megatron watched him for a moment longer, optics narrowed in disgust, before turning away. "Your precious _Autobots_ don't have much time left now. They'll be picked off one by one. I do hope you enjoy the show, old friend," he snarled.

Sam watched the other move forward as if in slow motion. The almost silent thud of his stabilizing servos leaving tremors that shook Sam into a paralyzed shock. His servos scraping uselessly against the ground as he urged them forward to move, get up, do anything. But all they seemed to do was spread more of the energon sustenance like warpaint through his apendages.

It was strange, perhaps a result of Sam's damaged processor or some old human hallucinations that continued to plague his mind, but the whole scenario seemed oddly familiar in some dark, humorous way. He had seen this very vision before with the same blurry tones, and the very same feeling of helplessness that gorged on him now. But just like before, when suddenly washed over by false memories and déjà vu, he could not pinpoint where such reminiscent perceptions originated from. However, worse, it seemed he knew how it would end. Somewhere, Sam recognized this place, this very moment in time where the energon seemed to drip slowly and eternally from his servo to the small river it had created below. He had died here before, and though the knowledge of when or how continued to elude him, Sam could feel the ominous emotions that boiled within him as he was suddenly plagued with the fear that this very spot had been his grave.

And he'd be damned if he died here again.

Sam let out a pained wheeze as he clenched his servos and forced his body off the ground. But gravity seemed suddenly a thousand times heavier. Still his limbs were feasible and Sam was grateful for the sudden movement he was spontaneously able to create.

Megatron turned around suddenly from the consequential noise as Sam heaved himself upward. Both of his servos then slamming onto the edge of the computer as his body crashed back forward from the sustained effort. Megatron only frowned as his lips down turned into a snarl. "You just get more annoying by the klik."

Sam only smiled in response, partly because his mind was to stunned to come up with a timely quip, and partly because the strain of moving his body took far too much effort. Either way, Sam only gave the warlord another aggravated smirk before his seemingly dead servo collapsed onto the computer's panel.

Megatron's optics widened as he let out a snarl and lunged forward fully intending to slice Sam to shreds, but it was too late. Whatever Wheeljack had done, it had clearly worked as the gates opened, the sirens buzzing amid the sudden entourage of bullets, and Sam watched with minimal satisfaction as the Autobots flooded through the now broken defense. But there was little time to gloat as the world continued to spin and twist, distorted in Sam's own processor before even the flashing red lights of the base faded to black.

When Sam awoke again, he was not alone.

Sam watched the Allspark floating, slightly gravitating in the air as the desert runes of Cybertron billowed about upon invisible winds and the thick atmosphere compressed against the ground in an attempt to suffocating all living things. Literally squeezing the life out of the planet until it was nothing but a dead shell. "This is Cybetron in the future that you came from," the Allspark spoke although it was really an echo in Sam's mind as if it was using Sam's own mind to speak rather than voicing out. The idea disgusted Sam, yet he didn't reject it. "This future is slowly dissipating and recreating itself with each action you make, causing ripple effects that will last for centuries. These effects will withstand time, it will create worlds that you will never see or imagine possible, and this, this future, you must sacrifice for."

"So this is where it all ends."

There was no answer in response, yet Sam could hear the silent answer that resonated between them. The understanding. He had always known since finding himself in a robotic body that was obviously deteriorating and decaying, and he had accepted the fact, but now that there was so much to see, a world he wanted to explore and understand more, he suddenly found himself not wanting to die, not wanting to lose this world he had become such a part of. The will to live was now killing him and he couldn't help but feel his spark stutter in fear.

He will die. The battle was finally coming to its climactic end, and Sam, Sam would once again have to face the uncertainty of starting over again.

It's strange how the thought of living eluded him until the presence of death was so close it grazed by his heart. Death did that. It did weird things to a man. Sam only paused, thinking for what could be the last peaceful moment he would ever see before steeling his shoulders and clenching his fists. "I've died before. This will be no different."

 **AN- It's rushed, I haven't been able to look over it, but hopefully I'll be able to throw out those last few chapters. As always, thank you for reading!**


	28. Chapter 28

**So, when I said "It's rushed, I haven't been able to look over it," I did not realize what a FATAL mistake that would be. So I tried to emphasize in the last chapter that Sam "will die" meaning he knows he's about to die in the next few minutes and that he has to make those last few seconds count. It does not mean he is already dead, so when people started reviewing about his death my automatic reaction was wait... did I just kill Sam?! OMG I think I just accidentally killed Sam in my drunken madness to get this chapter done. After rereading the chapter I can understand where this misinterpretation comes from, and I should have emphasized some things better, but since I was in a rush, I didn't go over it as much as I would have liked. So I am deeply sorry for any confusion that has escalated as a result. No, Sam is not dead. He only blacked out and the Allspark visited him in his dreams. Once again, I am SO sorry for the mistake. Please don't kill me.**

When Sam awoke again, he dully noted the lack of red sirens. In fact, there was no noise at all, only the quiet shudders of his own shallow breath. He must have been underground, and it took him a moment longer to wonder why when he felt, more than saw, Optimus' presence next to his own.

"Thank the Allspark," Optimus breathed out when Sam's optics shuttered back to life and the dim lights of his eyes glowed iridescent blue. "Optimus?" Sam choked out as the other, kneeling by his side, allowed the tension to escape his shoulders. "I'm sorry," Optimus responded immediately. "I should have been there."

Sam blinked in confusion as his processor tried to reconnect the past events only for his optics to widen in shock as he bolted upward from his position on the ground. Optimus seemed startled at the sudden movement as Sam surged forward.

Where was Megatron? What had happened?

The taller tried to stop Sam as he winced in pain from the bullet wound though he eagerly ignore this. "The Allspark! Do you have it?!" Sam shouted under his breath at the Prime who frowned at Sam's lack of self preservation before nodding his helm affirmatively in a single shake. The latter pointing towards his own chasis in confirmation where, if Sam really concentrated, could feel the soft glow of the cube partially hidden from the Prime's own EM field. Sam felt the fear flee from his own shoulders before grabbing Optimus' servos. "We need to go," Sam added before trying to drag the larger mech after him only to be stopped when Optimus refused to budge. "Optimus?" Sam asked in confusion while turning to the other and letting go, but Optimus' gaze didn't change as he continued to stare at Sam.

"That is enough," the Prime spoke in response.

"What?"

"Ante Finem. You are injured, and on the verge of rejoining the Allspark. You have done more than enough. It is time you stopped."

Sam's optics narrowed. True, he felt nothing but pain coursing all throughout his systems, and it was taking all of his concentration just to stand still. Yes, he knew he was dying, but what blasphemy was Optimus spouting out now? "And do you know where the launcher is? Do you know what the code to set the Allspark off into space is?" Sam said angrily while turning fully to glare directly into the Prime's optics. "The future is at stake here!" But Sam stopped in surprise as the other only stared back with sadness and perhaps regret. It was oddly human the way Sam could practically see Optimus Prime's spark, his soul, through the soft glow of his optics, and Sam was almost startled back into submission. Almost.

Sam then let out a deep sigh, optics shuttering closed as he felt the aches of his body once again rejoice in his moment of weakness, before turning to Optimus again. "I'm fine, okay? Let's go."

He then kindly grabbed the other's servo once again and led the Prime through the familiar basement corridors along the very path that felt all too familiar to Sam. This time Optimus said nothing in response and only followed silently, but Sam could practically hear the other's thoughts and feel the fear that emitted through their bond no matter how much both tried to hide it.

It seemed for just a moment that Orion Pax had resurfaced as Optimus found himself torn between being the friend he had always wanted to be, over being the leader he had been born to become. For each step they took, Sam left a longer trail of energon across the ground as his life literally dripped away, painted across the basement floors where they both knew he would die in only a matter of time.

The walk was only a short, yet blessed, moment of respite for Sam as they followed the bullet ridden corridors and the busted steps turned soot gray from some past battle. It was a sad, quiet walk that led Sam down memory lane as his optics followed the course of patterns and routes he had taken from his many trips across Cybertron's vivid world. At the same time, it was disheartening to see it all end here in such a dark, pitiful conclusion.

Sam then stopped before heaving out another sigh. "It's a tight squeeze, but stay close," he then said to Optimus before reaching his servos out into the abyss of darkness. His digits grazing the wall as he prodded through the seemingly endless void of space. And true as he had left it, untouched by the outside war zone, was the door.

They entered a large, circular room that seemed to glow in ethereal light as the panels slowly began to light up as they walked. The slow drawl of the machines awakening alerting Sam to their mechanisms like some musical lullaby. It was enchanting, but Optimus seemed almost withdrawn as he walked around the room in surprise. It was almost as if the slow realization was beginning to dawn upon him. This room is Sam's life work. It would be his one, final contribution to the war.

Optimus watched as Sam then walked towards the center of the room. A large dais followed by the sweeping hold of the launcher's main frame taking up a majority of the room with the cannon pointed at the sky in some grand, regal show. Sam only spared a glance at the other before typing away at the pad much to Optimus' confusion as he stared at the strange keys before them. It was nothing like the computers Optimus had ever seen before, and he reluctantly agreed that he would have been lost if not for Sam's strange expertise as the smaller mech began typing furiously away at the strange, foreign signs. The letters were not Cybertronian. Instead they appeared more simple yet all the more confusing.

"What code is this?" Optimus asked as Sam paused to allow the computer to update. "English," was his only curt response though Optimus could clearly here some amusement in the other's tone coupled with silent mirth.

Letters than emerged across the screen at an alarming rate and Optimus could only watch Sam type one final sentence across the monitor.

Launch code [before the end].

Optimus could only stare at the strange letters, unfamiliar with their meaning or the content of their sounds, yet he tried to burn the image across his memory all the same. "It's done," Sam breathed out before sinking to the floor and leaning his back against the wall. "It will take just a moment for the system to reboot, but once it's done, you can launch the Allspark through the compartment there." It was only now that as Optimus turned to look at Sam, he could see the exhaustion settle in the other's form. The energon all but gone now and they both knew that Sam could no longer get up.

"I'll get Ratchet."

Sam let out a broken laugh. "No, don't get Ratchet." If Ratchet was given the opportunity to save him, no matter how small, the medic would try and the regret would follow him for an eternity. "No, just sit with me and wait," Sam whispered softly as his optics began to close and the lights dimmed to only a pale, almost nonexistent glow.

Optimus hesitated but sat next to him. The silence only lasted for a short moment before Optimus let out a shuddering breath. "I remember, a distant, vague memory. Something you showed me back when we knew each other as brothers. It was colorful and beautiful yet filled with such emotions that even now, I remember. I saw those very same images again last lunar cycle."

Sam stopped in a moment of confusion before letting out a half choked laugh. "You weren't supposed to see that," he whispered. Remotely, distantly, he could barely remember those bitter memories. His emotions of happiness at seeing everyone alive again, if only for a fleeting second in his own mind, were far too real to forget. At least there reality had seemed much sweeter. "Our bond had become so strong, I had unknowingly showed you dreams."

Optimus startled. Though it appeared that he was quickly excited by any prospect to keep Sam awake if only for a little while longer. "What are dreams?" he asked but Sam was already loosing his sight. His hearing following quickly behind as his glossa felt sluggish. "Dreams are possibilities...all the could haves..." he breathed out softly. The pain of speaking overcoming his desire to stay awake. Optimus was about to prompt him for more answers only to be stopped by the machines soft whirring as everything buzzed to life.

Optimus faltered as Sam watched heavily, spark settling into an uneven thrum as his body slowly powered down with death creeping into his systems. If Optimus didn't send the cube, the war would never reach Earth. Sam would have a normal life. He would never face the pains of war, he wouldn't die, not until he grew old through the twilight of his years when time took its toll rather than a bullet, and he would never have to face this eternal cycle of life and death. But he knew this was a death, a punishment, far worse than the alternative. So with a heavy spark, he whispered quietly, "Do it. It's the only way."

The capsule closed, a whiz of rushing air coming from the external engines as the launch pad buzzed to life. Then, with a sudden brush of wind, it was gone. It was finally done, but Sam didn't have time to feel relief as the world erupted in a sound of screaming and flashing bullets.

Optimus ducked to protect Sam from the flying entourage but Sam's vision had already become blurry and his optics slowly began to offline with his processor fuzzing in and out. The screaming, the sounds, the flashing lights all became distant and whirred together in a single morphed picture. Finally, Sam, with no struggle, let everything fade to black.

 **Okay. NOW he's dead.**

 **If you couldn't tell the code to the launcher was _before the end_. Just to clear up any possible confusion. **

**Thank you for reading! Just one more chapter.**


	29. Chapter 29

This time he knew he was dead. But strangely, there was a calmness about his conclusion as if he had long accepted it. Or perhaps having already died as a human, Sam's body was, oddly enough, able to recognize the sensation. There was no going back now, and all that awaited Sam was Earth. But Sam was left with confusion as he glanced at his surroundings. This was not the ruins of Cybertron with its barren sand and ash that covered the surrounding premise. It was different, yet, at the same time, completely the same.

Sam paused.

He found himself staring at human hands. His hands. He was human again."Why me?"

He was back with the Allspark floating aimlessly beside him. "You are special."

"But why? I've been following Orion Pax, I watched as Optimus Prime gained ranks, lead the war, hell, I watched Megatron's corruption! Why is everything following the same exact course of history as last time? Nothing has changed! Absolutely nothing!" Sam could feel himself breathing hard, the exertion, the frustration, the anger.

The cube spun in midair once. "Everything has changed."

Sam frowned and opened his mouth to retaliate otherwise but was shocked into silence by the sudden realization that slowly dawned upon him. "No," he whispered almost frantically in a disparaging voice. "No, it's not possible."

"It is," the Allspark insisted, glowing lines lightly buzzing against the ashen gray background of the planet. Suddenly all the weird moments of déjà vu didn't seem so innocent any more. The strange memories of moments that have never happened suddenly all seemed to make sense. "But how? I … how many lives have I lived?" Because the only explanation now was that Sam had gone to the past before, that somewhere, centuries ago, millenniums ago, the future had been worse, and Sam had stopped it. But the future had still remained bleak and now Sam was trapped in an encirclement continuously saving a dying planet again and again as the Allspark deemed fit.

How old was he? How many lives had he lived before this one? How many years of memories wiped clean each time he was reborn? What even was he anymore? Was he human, was he a bot, or was he a simple pawn of the Allspark's game?

Sam stared at his hands, grabbing at his face, covering his ears, and cowering away in fear at the mere thought of it all. Was this real? Was any of this even _him?_ Suddenly, Sam found himself consumed by anger as he reached forward intent on crushing the Allspark, but the cube merely floated away, dancing out of his reach. Not that he could have hurt it anyway.

"How long have you done this to me!?"

"Seven times. This is your seventh chance at life, and this will have be your seventh attempt at saving the universe. Each time the planet survives a little longer compared to the last before it all comes back to chaos. Six times before you, your predecessors have failed me."

Sam bit his lip from attempting to swear angrily at the cube, retorting in a burst of anger, but instead hissed quietly under his breath. "Nothing has changed from the last attempt, what makes you think it would change now?"

The cube continued to float innocently. The soft hue of it's sides being the only colored object in the entire dimension at which they stood. "This time, I will let you keep your memories."

This was ludicrous! It was ridiculous and stupid and utterly foolish! He was done speaking with this _thing_ that insisted on destroying everything. Sam was about to leave when he felt a gentle presence against his mind as if it knew his inner thoughts, and really, it probably did. "This is your true form, every time you come here, you have always appeared in this form, so do not fear as you, Samuel James Witwicky, have always been human, and if it will put your mind at ease, the first time I met you, seven life cycles ago, Optimus Prime had long died, and you found me, protected me against forces that you didn't understand. Your family dead, your loved ones gone, and swarms of armies pitted against your life, yet you refused to surrender, and you protected me. For that I am eternally grateful, for the you, so many years ago, the first you, held a powerful spark that I could never recreate, a passion that I still see in your soul today, no matter how many lives you have lived. That is why I chose you. That is why it has to be you, and I know that I have said you failed me, but Samuel James Witwicky, you have _never_ failed me."

All Sam's Cybertronian existence he had hated the Allspark, what it represented and what it had done to him, yet now he felt his own human heart waver in pity for he knew no pain compared to the Allspark. To watch as its savior forgot, the friendship forged dying away with each new future that it attempted to create, each new parallel universe that changed the outcomes of life and death, watching its own children kill themselves, watching everything it loved fight and die because of itself, to know it had spawned war and grew hatred from its own power, and finally, for the one person it had confided in, to hate it.

No, Sam could not forgive, not yet, when the pain still shone strongly, his own human emotions far to bitter to let go, but one day, perhaps, when the two of them finally saved the universe, finally got it right together, maybe then they could rekindle the first friendship struck so many lifetimes ago.

"Because of you, I've lived a life in total war far more than I've tasted peace," Sam whispered softly trying to disperse the sudden fluctuation of anger as the taste of revenge left a copper tang in his mouth. He then let out a deep sigh thinking back to Megatron and all the pent up rage and unforgotten vendettas. It was best not to repeat past mistakes. "But if we're done, I would like to return to my world again," Sam declared, more tired than anything else, and yet.

"Are you going back to a home where nobody's waiting? That world you come from no longer exists. The people you once knew and loved have faded with the dust. There is nothing left for you there," the Allspark continued and Sam was remotely aware that, for all its infinite wisdom and wealth of knowledge, the Allspark itself had strangely become humanly tired of all this.

Sam turned around to stare at the cube and dully noted its fading edges. It suddenly seemed so ancient. "I'll protect everyone I love. I'll make sure there's life back at home and someone to greet me when I finally get there."

The Allspark glowed softly as the dust began to churn, billowing against each other, reversing, and slowly reforming into objects. Solid objects of stone that had once eroded, then buildings that had once decayed. Skyscrapers of crystalline glass slowly building itself up. The sky turning from blackened ash and pollutant red into a shimmering haze of baby blue. The world slowly repaired itself, and Sam sat in the middle of it all in utter amazement. Then it stopped. And the world began again.

Sam turned to the Allspark that continued to float, unseen, among the reconstructed Earth. "Thank you, for this second chance," Sam whispered quietly as he felt his own body beginning to disintegrate with the gentle breeze.

The Allspark then floated towards him. "Good luck, Samuel James Witwicky."

* * *

It was burning hot today and Sam could feel beads of sweat racing down his back before being absorbed into the fabric of his shirt. With a frown, he grabbed the edges to wipe the sweat off his brow before resigning himself to his ill fated future. At least his future for the next few hours before Will and Epps could get the dang AC to start working again.

But that didn't seem likely.

So instead, to distract himself from the sun's onslaught, Sam watched Bee draw circles and weaves in the ground, occasionally blowing leaves and debris out of the way through his vents. Sam, standing by the large bot, leaned forward on his knees to see what the mech was doing. The said bot drawing a large b into the dusted ground, and, upon seeing an e follow after, Sam expected another e to follow the first in quick succession only to pause when Bee did not spell his name but rather another word entirely. This word followed by a second than a third until finally, _before the end_ , stood out prominently against the ground.

Sam blinked in confusion. "Hey Buddy. What is this?" he asked Bee, but the tall mech seemed oddly silent. Upon receiving no response, Sam sighed and began to clamber onto the other's arm before reaching his helm and trying to jump onto that as well if it wasn't for Bee stopping him. Sam was briefly thankful that the bionic skin didn't immediately fry off his own before turning his full attention to the yellow titan. "What's wrong?" he asked while staring determinedly into the other's optics. The strange metal ridges shrinking and widening like a puppy's own dropping eyes.

"Not sure myself," Bee hummed quietly back though his frame seemed to sag forward as if protecting his own writing from the scorching rays. "Just something we've been trying to decode ever since the fall of Cybertron, and now that we can read it, leaving only more unanswered questions."

Sam nodded his head in understanding while staring at the strange, chicken-scratch scrawl of the words now etched against the ground in perfect computer font clearly having been driven from Bee's own memories multiple times. He said nothing while the other only continued to stare at the words forlornly as if their secrets would come dancing out if he tried hard enough. But it seemed he had done that trick before, and like every other time, it ended in utter failure. Sam smiled softly, placating the other with another gentle pat on his arm. "You should rest. You definitely deserve it. Besides, I need to go get Prime for a meeting with Say more Slim Jim anyway."

"Don't you mean Seymour Simmons?"

"Whatever," Sam rebutted though Bee only gave him a pointed look. "Revenge is petty," Bee scolded though Sam only stuck his tongue out at the other resulting in the mech's small huff of laughter. Sam then smiled slightly in relief. Bee's happiness was well worth the price of Simmons' angry rants once word got to him. Though honestly the Sector Seven agent deserved a taste of his own medicine.

"But I'll go with you," Bee declared, already getting up and holding Sam in the palm of his large servo. Dwarfed and stumbling from the sudden earthquake of movement, Sam frowned in annoyance. "Give it a rest Bee. I'll be just fine walking around the compounds by myself. The air conditioner may be broken, but the security is on point."

Bee hesitated before leaning down to let Sam hop off his elevated servo. The blessed ground meeting him with a slight huff. "Thanks Buddy!" Sam shouted at the other, and without waiting for a response, ran off for a head start before his bodyguard could catch wind of where he was going.

It was a slight jog before Sam reached the edge of the compound and headed towards the cliff side as the sun began to set. The reds and golds mingled in a haze with the darkening sky in some blurred reflection. The clouds were painted pink like floating cotton over the horizon and Sam sighed softly upon seeing the large semi truck parked against the back drop.

"Simmons wants you to attend a meeting with some officials in about half an hour," Sam stated calmly while walking up to the other and clambering on to the large mech's hood. Optimus said nothing for a long moment as Sam settled down against the nose of the truck before responding, "I will join in a few minutes." It was probably the way he said it that alerted Sam to his sudden forlorn mood or perhaps Sam was just merely good at perceiving the other's sometimes hidden emotions. But regardless, Sam could feel the heavy burden of sadness that weighed upon the other, and for a long moment he just stared at the Prime before once again resting against the fleshed metal and watching the clouds drift aimlessly into the darkening sky. "You don't mind if I stay here with you then?" Sam asked although his posture already dictated his expected response.

Optimus only chuckled good naturedly. It was warm and almost lulled Sam to sleep as the Prime added, "Of course not. Your presence is always a welcome addition."

They stayed like that for a moment longer as the air became cooler and Sam could feel the clinging sweat evaporate into the sweetened air.

"What are dreams?"

Sam startled at the question. The sudden silence gone, yet the peace remained untouched. "I wasn't aware that bots had dreams."

"We don't, usually. But I remember a friend, no, a brother, once showed me beautiful, colorful images, vivid and powerful with emotions that flashed through your processor as you shut down."

Sam smiled softly. "Is that so? Well dreams are hidden desires. It's what makes you human."

There was another, thoughtful pause. "Do you think my friend had such desires?"

Sam closed his eyes, thinking back to the peace, the heartache, and the pain of his past lives. "I'm sure he did."

Optimus said nothing, letting the silence resume as he paused to think.

Dreams are what make you human.

My friend showed me what its like to be human. For just a moment he showed me a dream, the color of a human's soul.

 **AN- While inadvertently saving Bee's voice, Sam still believes this to be the one thing he did right. Also, Sam finally answers Optimus' question fully in another life. Oh, and Bee keeps his promise not to forget Ante Finem.**

 **Finally! It's finished. Ugh. What a long journey, but there were definitely some fun moments. I would be lying if I said I didn't fully enjoy it, even with my months of writer's block. That being said, I'm still not entirely happy with this and some additional chapters. So, I'm sorry if anything didn't reach your expectations. On a side note, I have a tendency to jump around fandoms quite a bit, but Transformers has one of the most supportive groups I have ever had the joy of meeting. Thank you so much for all your comments and for every single favorite and follow. Your feedback and support was appreciated and motivated me to improve my writing!**


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